Harassing O'Hara
by Iarejedi
Summary: Involves a drunk Colonel Tavington and the idiot O'Hara. The title pretty much says it all. :) New chapters added!
1. O'Hara Humilated

A/N: The Patriot is obviously not mine. :P This is quite an amusing lil fic about our dear Tavington. I can't really explain it to you. It is more or less a story about the hatred between O'Hara and Tavington. You'll have to read it to find out for yourself. :) And believe me I think you'll find this Tav. fic particularly funny. 

~*~

Tavington sat hunched over a mug of beer. He was in a dark, gloomy loyalist pub, late on a Saturday evening, drowning his many frustrations in alcohol. He sat in the furtherest corner from the door at a tired, old table. He had a clear view of the door so he could watch anyone coming and going. At the moment, though, he really wasn't paying much attention to anyone else in the pub. He was to intent on glaring down into his mug of beer.

            He was seated across from Captain Bordon, who was still on his first drink. By now, Tavington had drunk about three mugs of **strong **beer and was well on his way to being deliriously drunk. Tavington could not have cared less about the huge hand over he knew he was going to have tomorrow. He'd live through it, unfortunately. He sighed down into his mug, swishing the contents around and watching them whirl about. He lifted his mug and chugged down about half the liquor in one go. It slid down into his stomach, sending an unnatural warm rush through him, but he didn't mind. He rather enjoyed the feeling of warmth the alcohol gave him. H slammed the mug back down on the table with more force than was necessary, causing Bordon to jump slightly in surprise.

               "Are you quite alright, Colonel?" Bordon asked, with something between concern and worry in his tone.

            He was probably worried about Tavington causing trouble again. He had taken to accompanying the Colonel to the pub after what had happened a few months ago. There was not much to say about the whole matter of **that bar brawl. It had just involved Tavington and another officer, some broken beer kegs and tables, and the death and injury of several good British men. Needless to say Bordon would rather not see that kind of display of aggression again for a long while. Since that last incident he had actually been ordered by another higher ranking officer to go with Tavington and keep him out of trouble at the pub. This had not been exactly Tavington's "cup of tea" and he had made quite a fuss about the whole matter, but in the end. Mostly because the Officer had threatened to excuse Tavington from his duties for several days until he got his temper back under control. For Bordon it was not always the easiest job in the world, considering the Colonel's volatile nature. Nearly every time they visited the pub Bordon had to divert a disaster, mostly between General O'Hara and Tavington. The two had acquired a rather deep loathing for each other early on the war.**

               "No, Bordon, I am not," Tavington growled, sarcastically. He pulled off his black riding gloves and flung them into his helmet on the table.

            Bordon was not sure whether he should press the matter or not. He would rather not be caught in the line of the Colonel's fire, but he'd rather not have someone else get it either. Luckily, he did not have to debate long about it. Tavington went on without his prompting. _Oh, the horror a mug of beer or two did to Tavington_, Bordon sighed to himself. 

               "Once again, Bordon, I was invited into the Cornwallis' private office for a verbal beating. This time it was about my conduct towards higher ranking officers then me, essentially toward that daft idiot O'Hara. _General _O'Hara seems to have been complaining about me once again!" Tavington snarled out General like it was some kind of poison.

            It never ceased to amaze Bordon how open the Colonel could be when he had been drinking. He sighed and pushed his mug aside. No use in him being drunk as well. He had a feeling he was going to need his wits about him again tonight.

               "O'Hara told Cornwallis that I had blatantly disregarded the orders given to me by the little nit over a matter of not killing the colonials in the skirmish yesterday but capturing them," Tavington went on, rolling his eyes. "I suppose O'Hara would try to walk right up to those rebels in the middle of a firefight and kindly ask them not to shoot him while he takes them all hostage."

            Bordon could not help smiling at this, which made Tavington smirk in amusement. The though of O'Hara being shot down while trying something that stupid was pretty funny. 

               "No, of course not," the Colonel shook his head, serious once again. "He would hide behind the burliest soldier he could find and let others do the dirty work for him, which of course is why **I am still here. I do all the dirty work, and then get punished for doing the dirty work that no one else has the guts to do!"**

               "Sir, really-," Bordon tried to cut in with no success.  

               "That prissy little doll of a man hides behind Cornwallis and his army because he is to afraid to spoil his perfect complexion or get his hands dirty!" Tavington's voice was growing steadily louder by the second.

            Several of the pub patrons had gone silent, nervously shifting in their seats. They had all been around long enough to know what happened when the Colonel got angry. No one ever liked to be near Tavington when he was in one of his moods. Hopefully, Tavington's rage would run its course without to much raucous and mayhem this time. Bordon almost laughed at that thought. Not bloody likely.

            It was right at that moment that General O'Hara came stalking into the little pub. He looked around with a disdainful sniff and his eyes settled at last on Colonel Tavington. Everyone had fallen deathly silent and the tension in the pub increased ten fold. Everyone had been seen the near fights between the two British officers. They were all waiting for the day when Tavington would snap and give O'Hara what he deserved. Maybe tonight would be that night. 

            Bordon swallowed hard and glanced over at the Colonel. Tavington was gripping his mug so hard that Bordon thought for sure it would break. If looks could kill, O'Hara would have been dead before he knew what hit him. O'Hara being as stupid as he was, headed straight over to Tavington's table. Bordon unconsciously gripped the edge of the table anxiously, praying that Tavington would be able to keep his temper under control but knowing that it was useless.

               "Colonel Tavington," O'Hara greeted in his high, girly formal voice.

            Tavington did not even glance up at him. "O'Hara," he growled.

            Still O'Hara was to daft to take the hint that now was not a good time to try and talk to the Colonel. Apparently he had not learned from all his previous encounters with Tavington. He did not seem to understand the fact that right at this moment he was walking on dangerous ground. Or maybe O'Hara just liked poking the already angry cobra. Whatever the case, he didn't leave but continued to stand there. Bordon almost felt sorry for him, but anyone who was stupid enough to bother the Colonel in the state he was in was asking for whatever Tavington gave him. 

               "Is there something you wanted?" Tavington snapped, in an icy tone. He could have frozen their drinks with that voice.

            O'Hara suddenly seemed to realize he was provoking the wrong man. He shifted uneasily, but his pride would not allow him to leave. He had come to deliver Tavington his orders and by God he would do so. "I have come to speak to you about tomorrow's raid."

                "Oh?" Tavington gave O'Hara a bored look.

            O'Hara took a deep breath, forcing himself not to get irritated by the Colonel's response. "Yes. There are strike orders that must be fulfilled on the raid tomorrow. One of them is that you are to capture the colonials that surrender and bring them back to fort. Under no circumstances, will you be allowed to kill them unless they attack you."

               "I don't know why you bother, O'Hara, seeing as I will "blatantly" disregard the orders anyway," Tavington remarked, as glared up at O'Hara with undisguised disdain.

            O'Hara looked as though he'd swallowed something bitter. "You will do as you are ordered-!"

               "Or what, O'Hara?" Tavington shot back, standing up menacingly. "What are you going to do about it? Run back to Cornwallis and tattle like the spoiled little brat that you are?"

            O'Hara's face had gone bright red in outrage. "How dare you!" 

            Bordon grabbed Tavington's arm and jerked him back down in his seat. "Now, Colonel, don't go getting yourself into trouble that you will regret in the morning. I think you've had one to many drinks."

                "Yes, _Colonel_ Tavington, listen to your Captain. He seems to be the wiser of the two of you," O'Hara said, snottily. 

            Tavington clenched his teeth and curled his hands into fists. O'Hara had done it now. He had gone to far.

                "You would not be so brave if you didn't have someone to constantly protect that porcelain white ass of yours," Tavington snarled, his expression becoming that of the cold, controlled look of the "Butcher."

            O'Hara swallowed hard, and had a brief glimpse of his life flashing before his eyes. Yet, that horrid pride of his would not allow him to back down. "How dare you!" he exclaimed, once again in great indignation and because he was unable to think of anything else. He was not the most intelligent of being ever.

               "How dare I? It's quite simple really," the Colonel stood up with a nasty sneer. 

            Bordon sensed the danger before O'Hara did. Unfortunately, he was not fast enough to divert it. Tavington hauled back and punched O'Hara right in the jaw. O'Hara reeled backwards, grabbing onto a near by table to keep himself from falling to the floor. He blinked several times, and clutched at his jaw. He felt very close to passing out. Those annoying black spots would not clear form his vision.

               "Well, General, you have a rather glass jaw. To bad I didn't hit you harder," Tavington smirked.

            He calmly sat back down and picked up his mug of beer. O'Hara seemed to have gained some control of his senses back and was glaring, murderously, at Tavington. The Colonel took another gulp from his mug and sneered at O'Hara. "Go ahead, O'Hara, and run back Cornwallis. Tell him that you got beat by a subordinate you are supposed to have control over." 

               "You…you ill mannered arrogant…bastard!" O'Hara cried, still shaken and unwilling to even go near Tavington again. 

            Tavington glanced up at him. "Get out of here you prissy doll before I spoil your pretty face more."

             O'Hara's eyes glinted with fury. He sputtered angrily, unable to find a come back to Tavington. O'Hara straightened up into his normal haughty position, despite the pain in his jaw. He gave Tavington a last malevolence look, then turned on his heel and marched out. He did not look at anyone, but held his head high. Tavington watched him go with a deep satisfaction. That had felt incredibly good. A small smile played across his lips as the pub door slammed shut.

            Bordon shook his head and sighed. "That was not a very wise thing to do, sir."

               "I suppose I will regret that tomorrow," Tavington grudgingly agreed. He sighed heavily and chugged down the rest of his beer. He picked up his hat and gloves, then headed for the door. "It was certainly worth it though, Bordon."

            Bordon bit back a smile that threatened to expose his amusement.

               "Come on, Bordon. I think we've seen enough excitement for the night," Tavington remarked, as he strode out of the pub. Behind them, Bordon could feel the tension in the pub decrease immediately. Laughing and talking picked up as the door shut behind them. 

            There was no doubt about it. Tavington was far to complicated to figure out, Bordon thought with a smile. He definitely preferred Tavington when he was drunk. At least when the Colonel was drunk he had a sense of humor like normal people. He followed the Colonel back to down the street toward the fort. He glanced over his shoulder at the little pub and sighed. Yes, Colonel Tavington would deeply regret his actions tomorrow. Not mention the massive hang over he would have as well. 

               _Such is life, Bordon grinned._

The end. 

p.s. Don't forget to review!! ;)


	2. So begins the unfortunate revenge

Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with the Patriot.

A/N: Yes, I finally decided to add onto the this short story. I know most of you are rejoicing right? looks around hopefully It's been so long since I wrote anything for ! But anyways, after many people begging for more I decided I will indulge you all.

This story will be rated PG-13, mostly for language because these guys just can't watch their mouths. I will try to keep the characters to canon, but as you know they can take on minds of their own. This also means the events will be as canon as possible, even the ones we don't like if you catch my drift. This is will be nothing more than a plot less funny/semi serious (because honestly these guys take themselves so seriously) short story. There is no romance or anything deeper than O'Hara and Tavington getting back at each other. However, I will be throwing a few women in for entertainment. grins wickedly Oh, and this will be picking up on the morning after the event that started this mess. I think that's about it.

So begins the series of unfortunate revenge.

"General O'Hara," Cornwallis addressed his second in command as he looked up from the map he had been studying. Whatever he had just been about to say was forgotten instantly. O'Hara stood before him in his usual poised, dignified manner except this time there was one major problem this morning. His general's jaw was swollen to about twice its normal size and resembled something of an over ripe melon. He blinked in surprise as he worked to regain his lapse of composure. O'Hara appeared to be trying to ignore his rather blatant stare with stony faced silence.

"General O'Hara," he repeated at length. "May I inquire as to what happened to you?"

The younger man sighed silently, looking to have been dreading that question. "I would rather not say, my lord," he replied in as dignified a manner as he could manage. However, the effort was rather fruitless considering he sounded like he had swallowed a mouthful of cotton.

Cornwallis choked back the laughter at the amusing display of his most trusted officer. O'Hara looked greatly displeased. The General managed to school his expression back into a somewhat calm look. "Then, O'Hara, I must insist."

"I was involved in a bar brawl," O'Hara answered shortly.

Cornwallis's semi-amused expression immediately vanished. He had sent O'Hara off last night to talk to Colonel Tavington. If there was a bar brawl that could only mean one thing.

"Did Tavington star another private war last night at the pub?" Cornwallis asked in a deadly calm tone.

O'Hara swallowed with some difficulty. "You might say so, my lord."

"Dash it all! That man is far to hard to control! Even with someone watching him, he still finds a way to cause trouble and injure. Violence is the only thing that man understands! If he was not such a good fighter and leader I would have him discharged and thrown to the rebels!" he ranted. He banged his fist on his desk, and shouted for his messenger.

A short little man scurried in, and bowed. "Yes, my lord?" his voice was disturbingly low for a man of such short stature.

"Go to Tavington's tent at once and tell him to report to me immediately!" Cornwallis snapped.

The little man left quickly, closing the door carefully behind him. Cornwallis got up, walked to the window, and stared out for several long moments. He turned back at last to face O'Hara. His second in command straightened his back, if it were even anymore possible to do so without falling over backward. "Now, general, is you would please give me a full detailed description of what exactly took place last night at that pub."

"Well, uh, my lord. That is...," O'Hara began to stutter.

"Out with it, O'Hara!" the General spat.

O'Hara began to babble nervously. "Really, my lord, Tavington is horribly appalling when drunk. I must insist that you suspend him from visiting the town. His behavior is most unbefitting an officer of his station, especially when inebriated. And perhaps I did provoke him somewhat, but that does not excuse–"

"General O'Hara, are you suggesting that Tavington was the one who did this to you?" Cornwallis's gaze went as cold as the icey winters to the north.

O'Hara stammered unintelligently. He was saved from burying his own proverbial grave by the timely arrival (for O'Hara) of one Colonel William Tavington. The Green Dragoon's commander looked like he had been dragged through hell and back hanging by the stirrup of his horse's saddle. His face was haggard, drawn, and pale. His crystalline blue eyes were blood shot, hardly open to more than mere slits. His uniform was rumbled attesting to having been slept in. He smelled strongly of stale, old beer. It was apparent by appearances alone that Tavington was suffering from a severe hang over.

"Colonel Tavington!" Cornwallis snapped out the colonel's name with distaste. Tavington cringed at the sudden loud noise. O'Hara looked like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"I would like to know what happened last night," the General snarled.

Tavington stared at him for a long moment as though trying to comprehend what he had just said. He glanced sideways at O'Hara and barely hid the smirk that threatened him.

"My lord, clearly he is still to intoxicated to remember," O'Hara put in quickly.

Cornwallis sighed heavily and spun to face the window. Tavington shot the other general a suspicious look, all senses now immediately on the alert. O'Hara gave him a warning look.

"Please, Colonel, tell me what you do remember," the General spoke over his shoulder.

"Bordon and I were at the pub last night," he started slowly. "There was a fight..."

"I stepped in to break it up, and Tavington struck me by mistake," O'Hara lied smoothly.

Cornwallis whirled about and stared at the two men in front of him. There was something else going on here. He could sense it, but who was covering up for whom? And for what reason?

"Is that what happened, Colonel Tavington?" Cornwallis pressed.

Honestly, Tavington remembered everything that had happened perfectly, but he was not about to sell himself to the hounds now that O'Hara had played his hand. He would have to convince the General that his nemesis's story was the "truth." He knew why O'Hara was covering up for him. He did not want Cornwallis to know how easily Tavington had overpowered him and that he had been unable to do anything to stop it. It would reflect badly on him as well as his abilities to control his subordinates. Despite wanting Tavington discharged and thrown out for the rebels to have their way with him, he also wanted his honor and reputation to stay in tact. If that was the way O'Hara wanted it, Tavington could play his game.

"Yes, my lord, that is what happened. However, it is all rather a bit of a blur," he replied evenly.

Cornwallis stared at him a moment longer before stalking back to his desk. He sank into his chair and glared menacingly at Tavington. "Never the less, you struck a superior officer, Colonel Tavington. You will be punished for such poor conduct of character. You are forthwith suspended from entering ? Town again under any premise. You are also excused from your commanding duties to the Dragoons for the next three week or until further notice."

"But, my lord, really–"Tavington's protest was cut short.

"You will be acting as a scout until your suspension is over. I suggest you use that time to try to locate where the Ghost may be hiding. Your captain, Bordon, will be assigned to go along with you so he may make sure you do not stray from your orders. Is that understood?"

Tavington bit his tongue to keep from unleashing a string of curses and insults that would have made a sailor cover his ears in shame. He merely nodded instead.

"I must make it clear that should another incident like this occur you will be discharged no matter how vital you are to the cause at the time. I will not put up with anymore of your foolish antics. Do we understand each other?"

Tavington murmured a soft, "yes, my Lord."

O'Hara looked extremely pleased with the outcome of the whole situation. He had won the next battle in the war against the great William Tavington. He would not be satisfied until the Colonel was as thoroughly humiliated as he had felt last night. The General waved his hand at Tavington, effectively dismissing him. Tavington bowed and turned towards the door. He glared coldly at O'Hara as he stalked out.

_Oh, this is not over yet, you pompous little pansy,_ he thought angrily. He would get his revenge.

Tavington stormed back to the tent he shared with John Bordon. Whoever or whatever came with in his path was violently kicked, shoved, or hurled aside. People dodged, horses shied back, dogs ran, and inanimate objects were snatched out of his way before they met an unfortunate fate. Even his own horse, a chestnut mare named Audrey, flattened her ears to her head and eyed him fearfully. Had he been in a even a slightly better mood he would found it all somewhat amusing. As it was, he was severely pissed off and ready to mangle anyone who got to close.

He cursed the cheery morning when the sun glared in his eyes, openly slandered the birds when they launched into their perky songs, and wished a sudden rain storm would drown everyone in its torrents of water. He reached his tent and flung the tent flap open. He stalked in, muttering furiously as he kicked a bucket across the length of the tent. Bordon paused in the buttoning of his uniform jacket. His long, dark hair was already neatly done up in its traditional queue. He looked as fresh and ready to work as he always did even after the events of last night. Tavington fixed his subordinate with a malicious glare. Right at the moment he really hated Bordon. So what if he was the only friend the Colonel had.

Bordon gave him a disgruntled look at the open animosity in his commander's gaze. He was not at all surprised by Tavington's foul mood. He just wondered why it was aimed at him. He had been expecting someone to come fetch Tavington all morning. An incident like last night would not go unnoticed for long. Despite his efforts to quell the Colonel's rage last night the whole thing had ended up being a disaster like normal. He knew it would come back to haunt Tavington, and apparently he had received the proper punishment for his behavior.

"A scout!" Tavington burst out suddenly.

Bordon managed to keep his startled flinch discreet. "Beg your pardon, Colonel?" he asked politely.

"That arrogant wind bag suspended me for the next three weeks and made me a scout!" Of all the humiliating, dishonorable position–!"

Bordon interrupted quietly. "At least, he did not punish you further. You were not discharged."

"Not punished further! Everyone knows scouts are expendable. They are the ones that are killed the most. Well, if he hopes to get rid of me that way I will not give him the satisfaction. I would live just to be a thorn in his ass!" he paced back and forth down the middle of the tent.

"Really, Colonel, you should watch your tongue. It could be worse," he tried to reason with the irrate man before him.

Tavington spun to face him. "Oh, you think so! Then you will love this part, my dear Bordon," his voice nearly dripped with icey cynicism. "You are to be my keeper. You have to come on every scout errand I am given to insure that I do not cause more trouble."

Bordon stared at him in shock for a long moment before stammering out some kind of answer in disbelief. "B-but who will be in charge of the Dragoons while you are away?"

"No one! They will all be relaxing on their lazy white asses while you and I are made out little better than lackeys!" Tavington snarled at him.

Bordon was silent. He wanted voice his own opinion at the unfairness of the situation. Why was he being punished? Was it because he had been unable to control Tavington last night at the pub? There was a man that could keep his commanding officer in check he would dearly like to meet him. He glanced up at the Colonel, who was waiting for him to get angry so he could throw it right back in Bordon's face. Bordon sighed heavily. He would not do that. It was best just to deal with the situation with exuberant amounts of patience.

"We will have to make the best of it, sir," he remarked quietly.

The Colonel stared at him for a long moment before deflating. As usually, Bordon's reason drained the anger right out of him. Besides there was no way he could hurt his subordinate for being reasonable. He sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of his cot. He was horribly tired and a throbbing headache had begun to pound just behind his eyes. His hangover seemed to have returned with a vengeance. He had completely forgotten it in the wake of his anger.

"Bordon, go fetch some coffee," he ordered in a deadpan tone.

Bordon nodded and left quickly, no doubt glad to get away from him for a few minutes. Tavington reached down and pulled his blanket over his face to block out the sunlight. It was going to be a long three weeks, he could feel it already.

Alright guys! That's it for now. Tell me what you think. Should I continue or take this down and just leave the story alone? I'm counting on your opinions y'all, so be a responsible reader and review!


	3. Scouting Mission

Disclaimer: I've bought the rights to Tavington so he now belongs to me. No one else is allowed to write about him from here on out and he is mine to do whatever I want with. evil look creeps into her eyes ... Yeah right!

A/N: Look I updated! Are you all happy! glances at one reviewer in particular ;) Thank you everyone for the reviews. I appreciate all your opinions and the fact that you all returned to read this story. I'm not exactly sure where it's going but feel free to hang around to find out. :D And special thanks to Eccentric Banshee. Your support in reading my story even when you were so sick made me feel very humbled. I don't deserve your admiration. hugs Banshee Alright, on to the story. Enjoy!

Colonel Tavington and Captain Bordon found themselves sent out on their first scouting mission the very next day. Bordon was, again, not at all surprised to hear that they were being sent out to search for the Ghost. It was a pointless, futile mission but Bordon suspected Cornwallis had thought it up merely to get Tavington off the fort premises. There was no reason to state his opinion of the matter because his commanding officer was doing it enough for him as it was...for the last several hours at least.

"Find the Ghost, he says. As though I will just run into him while riding around South Carolina like a damned idiot," Tavington seethed under his breath.

Bordon managed to stifle the sigh of annoyance that arouse. Instead, he silently renewed his promise to God to try and strengthen his patience.

After another hour of riding, the Colonel's ranting had subsided to only an occasional mutter, much to Bordon's relief. Soon even the muttering ended as the road passed into a quiet, beautiful forest. Any sound made seemed to instantly be swallowed up amongst the numerous, tall trees. Tavington forgot to complain or grumble at all. He was to enthralled to remember to be angry. His sharp blue eyes were constantly moving, trying to take it all in at once. If there was one thing Bordon had learned about his superior, it was that beautiful things were always the quickest way to distract his easily irritated Colonel.

In so many ways, Tavington reminded Bordon of a little child. He threw tantrums when things did not go his way, thrived on attention and would do almost anything for it, was apt to say or do whatever the first thing was that came to mind, and most of all delighted in beautiful things with the same innocent enthusiasm as a child. It was amusing as well as irritating. Bordon could only assume that the reason for these characteristics came from such an oppressed childhood. Tavington had been unable to do all the silly and fun things that a child was want to do. His father had been a bully and a drunk, making for a very bad father figure to a boy who only wanted to be treated with what every child needed–loving care.

However, the Colonel's lack of childhood and attention from the one person that should have mattered most made it easier to understand why he had turned into the man he was today. Tavington only understood violence because that was all he been taught as a child by his father. He also learned that fear was the swiftest, easiest way to subdue and control someone. He had realized that after watching his mother cower in front of his father for fear of what he might do to her. Most importantly of all, his father had taught him that without money, honor, or esteem a man was worth nothing. He was little better than a beggar.

And all though, he liked pretty things he also liked to destroy them. It was as though he was trying to figure out why something became beautiful and where and how it got that way. Every detail of whatever he became interested in had to be examined with complete thoroughness, pulled apart, and only then could it be understood. He had been witness to one such incident when Tavington had caught a firefly. For a moment, the Colonel had been all wonder and awe...then he had killed it to see how it glowed. He did the same to people. He would observe, learn how that person worked, discern any weaknesses, and then destroy that person whether emotionally, physically, or mentally. It was disturbing to watch and even more disturbing to have it turned on one's self. Bordon did not quite understand the fascination behind the whole thing but he never questioned his superior. It was safer that way.

After spending hours with Tavington in pubs he had learned a great many things about the Colonel. Enough to know it was easier to accept that Tavington just was not like other men. There were to many aspects about him that were to twisted and broken to ever be normal. It was almost sad. Bordon was just thankful his superior never remembered what he told his subordinate. He was sure most of what he had been told, Tavington had never mentioned to anyone. If Bordon ever mentioned it or let it slip even by accident, he would probably be killed–literally.

So he followed after the Colonel, observing and quietly taking note. He would sooth ruffled feathers whenever he could and clean up whatever mess Tavington left in the wake of one of his tantrums. He had no idea how he got recruited for the job, but he never complained. There was no point and no one to listen anyways.

"Bordon!"

Captain Bordon jumped slightly in startled surprise before glancing sideways at Tavington. "Yes, sir?"

"For Pity's sake, man, I have been trying to get your attention for the last few minutes!" Tavington snapped irritably.

"I am sorry, sir," Bordon quickly apologized.

"It appears that there is a problem up ahead," Tavington indicated the direction he mean. He did not seem to hear or feel like acknowledging Bordon's apology.

Bordon obediently followed his Colonel's gaze to where a wagon had fallen over into a ditch on the side of the road. Two boys, one about eleven and the other perhaps fifteen in age, were doing their best to turn it back over. The mule that had been presumably pulling the wagon was happily munching grass near a woman that was tending to her pretty daughter, who seemed to have been injured. Bordon glanced over at Tavington wondering what he planned to do, but Tavington looked to be waiting for his captain's opinion. Should they stop and assist or carry on with their assignment?

Bordon cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should assist them," he suggested quietly.

"You think so?" Tavington said in a disinterested tone.

"Yes."

"And if they are Whigs?" the Colonel pressed.

Bordon knew Tavington was testing him, another little game he found amusing. He knew he must answer carefully. "I believe, sir, that General Cornwallis would be pleased to hear we helped them no matter their political sympathies."

In other words, Tavington knew Bordon was saying it would be the perfect way for him to get back into the General's good favor. Tavington would act like the gentleman Cornwallis wanted which would please and surprise him hopefully enough to take back a few days from his "punishment." And then, of course, Cornwallis always had particular interest in fine looking women and that was definitely a good term to describe the two before them. Tavington sighed heavily. He did not like women. He had to many unpleasant experiences involving them. It was better if he stayed away from them altogether but if this was a way for the General not to think of him as a total savage then he would have to behave. It did not matter if he thought the only thing women were good for was–

"Colonel?" Bordon interrupted his thoughts.

"We shall help them," he decided with little display of enthusiasm.

Tavington reined his horse in as the drew up alongside the women. The two women stared at them with a mixture of fear and awe in their eyes. He studied them for a moment, taking in every detail. Obviously, these women came from a family with money. Their clothes spoke of that for them. Their dresses were beautiful and made by very skilled hands. The daughter appeared rather tall for a girl. She had brown hair and hazel eyes. The mother had the same color eyes but had wavy honey blond hair that was pulled back in a loose twist at the back of her neck. He glanced sideways at the wagon. To him, it looked as if they had been heading towards the nearest town when the mule had spooked and run off the road, tipping the wagon.

He took all this in to account in only a matter of seconds. He forced himself to adopt a polite, genial manner that went completely against his nature. He felt like he was composing himself for a stage performance as he smiled pleasantly at the two women. "Good afternoon, ladies, you appear to be having some trouble–"

"How very observant," the girl muttered softly, apparently thinking he could not hear her. His ice blue eyes fixed on hers with a dark look lurking in them just below the surface. She went still, glaring up at him defiantly. He did not say a word to her, but continued on as though he had not been interrupted, yet his eyes never left hers.

"Perhaps, we can be of assistance to you," he finished in a quiet tone.

The older woman gave her daughter a warning look. "We would be most grateful to have your help, gentleman," the mother smiled politely up at him.

Tavington dismounted, unhooking his medical supply bag from the saddle. On a scouting mission it was always a good idea to bring some kind of medical aids just in case. It would be put to good use now. He turned to Bordon and handed him Audrey's reins.

"Go see what you can do about that wagon, Captain," he instructed before walking away.

Bordon lingered for a moment longer, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. This was going to end with trouble, he could feel it. He watched as the Colonel knelt by the women and asked about the injury the girl seemed to be suffering from. Bordon shifted anxiously in his saddle. Tavington glanced back at him with a stern glare and gestured for him to get going. It was pointless to argue when the Colonel had made up his mind.

He went over to where the boys were now arguing over the best way to pull the wagon free. After several minutes of calming them down enough to find out what had happened to the wagon, he began to relax somewhat. He had not heard any warning signs of trouble from the Colonel's direction. Maybe he was getting to paranoid, he thought as he inspected the wagon. Being around Tavington to much was beginning to wear severely on his nerves. That thought just crossed his mind when he heard voices sharp and angry coming from the direction of the women. He turned around just in time to see the girl swing and slap Tavington square on the cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded loudly. Bordon pressed one hand against his eyes as the Colonel completely lost his temper. He could not quite hear the loud, angry words but he clearly heard Tavington say "Damn wench!"

Bordon cringed and hurried over before it went to far.

"Watch your language, sir!" the girl snapped. "I am a lady with delicate ears!"

"And not so delicate hands!" the Colonel shot back nastily from where he crouched by her feet with one hand pressed to his smarting cheek.

The girl flushed angrily. "Why you rude, barbaric man! You are little better than a...a Viking!"

The mother tried to stammer out an apology and calm her daughter at the same time with little effect. Bordon stepped in before Tavington could retaliate. He quickly apologized for the Colonel, pushing his superior firmly out of the way. Bordon might have thought the situation amusing if it were not for the fact that any possible moment Tavington might let his temper turn to violence. The Colonel was glaring scathingly at the girl, as Bordon gave her his best charming smile and tried to put her at ease. When the girl seemed to have calmed, he carefully suggested that the Colonel go help the boys with the wagon.

Tavington stalked away but not before Bordon distinctly heard him mutter. "This is why I prefer killing people over helping them."

In the end, the wagon could not be saved. It was left behind when the two officers escorted the women and boys to the nearest town. The boys rode the mule while the women rode in front of the men on their horses. Thankfully, Tavington had been given the mother of the motley crew to ride with. It was not as bad as it could have been, he guessed. Bordon had the girl in front of him. They found she had little more than a badly sprained ankle. Of course, Tavington would have been able to figure this out, just as quickly as his captain, if the girl had not spouted off stupid words about modesty then promptly slapped him. He had only been trying to examine her ankle for God's sake!

Now the damn wench seemed quite happy and genteel as she rode with Bordon. Bordon had carefully wrapped up her injured ankle and fussed over her almost as badly as a mother hen (or so Tavington thought anyways). She was now laughing and flirting sweetly with his subordinate, not even noticing the pain in her ankle. Bordon only seemed to willing to return her flirtatious attention. Tavington clenched his teeth together in disgust, silently seething to himself.

_Women._

He hated women.

Colonel Tavington walked stiffly out of General Cornwallis's office, feeling ready to destroy something. He had just under gone a humiliating meeting with his superior, explaining why he had failed to find the Ghost's hideout or his true identity. On top of that, he had to tell Cornwallis why he had large red mark in the shape of a hand branded on his cheek still. He had to not only face the General's ridicule at his ineptitude, but put up with Cornwallis almost laughing outright at what had happened to him. To make it all ten times worse O'Hara had been there the entire time Tavington had to report. His worst enemy had heard every word of what had happened. Yes, finding some helpless colonists to shoot down sounded like a wonderful Tavington," General O'Hara called as he stepped out of the office.

Tavington's shoulders went tense as the pansy general's voice grated down his spin. He stopped in the middle of the hall, and turned to face his superior respectfully.

"That is quite the encounter you had on your scouting expedition," O'Hara smirked.

"Oh?" was all he could manage through his clenched teeth.

"I must say I find it highly amusing that a girl gave you more trouble than the Ghost seems to have. I would be delighted to meet the girl brave enough to raise a hand against the great 'Butcher.' I do hope I am able to hear the next humorous scouting report," O'Hara said smugly as he walked up to Tavington.

Tavington wished more than anything he could punch the little prick in the face, but if he did now it would be the end of his career and his hopes. They both knew it. He fisted his hands against his sides, but said nothing. He would not rise to the general's bait.

"Dear Colonel Tavington, no matter how you try you will never be given the recognition and honor you desire. I will make sure of that," O'Hara murmured as he passed him.

His fists trembled at his sides. It took every inch of control he owned to not turn around and pummel the porcelain pansy senseless. He could feel O'Hara's smug satisfaction as clearly as if he had spoken it.

_You will not be so smug much longer, you little bastard,_ he vowed silently to O'Hara. _You will regret the day you ever crossed paths with me._

raises her hands to ward off the objects thrown at her I know! I'm sorry! But O'Hara will get what's coming to him soon! Don't worry! I can't just let that pansy stomp my baby for to long without some form of retaliation. So just hang in there y'all!

Until next time!


	4. Sweet Victory

Disclaimer: Ummmm...well Tavington got taken away from me. Something about my over using him or something. I know they just wanted him for themselves. Selfish–censored (coughs) yeah. What's the matter with sharing!?

A/N: Ahhhhh...the next chapter and finally some much needed revenge. Have fun, because I sure did. (Grins evilly)

Three weeks of scouting actually went faster than Tavington expected. That was of course after he started looking for colonials to antagonize on a regular basis. His routine rounds never dredged up any information or clues as to where the Ghost might be hiding, but they did prove productive otherwise. Several times a week he brought in rebel scouts or traitorous colonials for capture, hanging, or questioning. His name became even more feared because of his expeditions. It turned into somewhat of a game for him. It was also a way to prove that he was apt whatever position he was given. The first day had been unfortunate and he tried his best not to remember it, although he could not forget the words O'Hara had whispered to him in the hall.

Every day he watched, waited, and schemed for a way to get back at O'Hara without being the one implemented as the culprit. He was only coming up empty until the end of his 'punishment' loomed near. He was summoned to Cornwallis's office and told that every high ranking British officer at their fort had been invited to Middleton Place for a ball so that he could plan his costume appropriately. He had been less than thrilled to hear he was being forced to go against his will, but the more he thought about it the better the idea sounded. It would be the perfect place to put any revenge plan into action. He ended up leaving the meeting with an evil smirk growing on his handsome face, much to O'Hara's horror.

So in the days to come he began to plan with great intensity the revenge he would exact upon his arch enemy. It was going to be sweet victory...

Of course, everything did not go according to plan. He was not expecting to be verbally torn down by Cornwallis that very evening for not being successful in finding the Ghost. The General had been to intent on his misfortunate costume to listen to a word he had to say in his defense. Personally, Tavington found it fitting that Cornwallis had to go out to the ball in anything less than he considered perfect. Balls meant a great deal to the General and Tavington knew, with deep satisfaction, that Cornwallis was ashamed at being seen in such a terrible costume. So the evening did not start so badly in the end after all.

Now all he had to do was make sure the rest of his schemes went off without incident. The first of his plans was already being put into effect.

"General O'Hara, our supply ship appears to have arrived," Cornwallis remarked in a falsely pleasant voice.

O'Hara could already sense the trouble brewing. "Yes, yes, my Lord. It has–"

"Then why am I still wearing this rag!" the General spat quietly.

"Your replacement wardrobe is aboard ship, but Colonel Tavington thought it best if we secured our arms and ammunition first. T-They are being unloaded now," O'Hara stammered out.

Cornwallis glared at him scathingly. "Did he? And since when does Colonel Tavington have the authority to make such a decision, _General_ O'Hara?"

"W-Well, it sounded like a wise decision at the time...," O'Hara paled.

"You are not the one dressed in this hideous costume! I gave you specific orders to unload my personal wardrobe first then arms and ammunition!"

O'Hara swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, I know, sir."

"Then why are you listening to Tavington and not my orders!?"

"I-I-"

Tavington strode down the steps and breezed by them as though he had not a care in the world. He glanced back and gave O'Hara a smug look. O'Hara scowled, suddenly realizing what had happened. Tavington had known all along what Cornwallis's orders were then tricked him into going against what the General had said. He should have guessed something was afoot when Tavington had appeared by his side earlier in the evening acting respectful and submissive as he was expected to. The Colonel had been quite pleasant to him and asked curiously why the General's wardrobe was being unloaded when there was rumors of a possible rebel attack on the supply ship. He expressed the opinion that it would be better to unload the arms and ammunition in case the rebels did attack. They would not lose anything of value and the General's wardrobe could always be replaced. He had suggested it all so smoothly and O'Hara had fallen for it. Tavington had known who's ass would be laid into once Cornwallis found out about the change in orders. He glared after the Green Dragoon's commander, silently seething as Cornwallis continued.

"O'Hara, I want my wardrobe unloaded immediately! I will not wear this _thing_ the entire ball! I can not even go inside for fear of the other guests seeing this wretched outfit!"

O'Hara looked back at the General. "Yes, sir, I will it have done immediately!"

Colonel Tavington sauntered over to a group of women as confidently as he could manage. Under any other circumstances he would have avoided such a large gathering of cohorting women. It was far to dangerous an environment to walk into so casually. One was never quite sure what the female mind was up to and to deal them in a group was something different entirely. Personally he would rather walk in front of a loaded cannon then these women, but he had a special purpose for being there, and by God he would carry it out. He would not back down to women. The mere thought rubbed him the wrong way.

The women were sad to find out that he was not in the least bit interested in them. There was only one in particularly he was looking for, and unfortunately she had to place herself in the center of the gossiping gaggle of femininity. He had to pretend he did not see or hear them whispering about him as he passed. He was, however, pleased to note that they thought rather highly of him. He heard their murmuring mentions of his 'pale blue eyes,' well built body, and most especially his very nice backside. He refused to allow himself to flush at their rather blatant remarks.

He was quite relieved when he finally made his way to the woman's side he had been aiming for. She was not to tall but the height of her hair made her almost taller than he. It was powdered heavily and piled hideously atop her head. She wore an expensive, exquisitely made silk green dress with a rather large hop underneath it. It made her already amble hips appear three times their size. She had applied what she must have assumed as a dainty beauty mark on her cheek while the rest of her face must have been caked with more than an inch thick layer of make-up. How she managed to balance that precarious hairdo atop her head plus the weight of, what looked like, pounds of make-up on that scrawny neck, he had no idea. Needless to say the effect was not very flattering at all. She had tried to hard to look beautiful and it showed terribly. She was completely and utterly artificial in appearance.

"Miss Whitmore, is it not?" he inquired softly so as not to startle her.

She turned toward him and looked him up and down appraisingly. Apparently, she like what she saw because her demeanor immediately became flirtatious. He managed to keep his disdain hidden but only just.

"Yes, it is," she smiled coyly.

He extended his hand to her and introduced himself as politely as he could manage. "I am Colonel William Tavington. It is very nice to make your acquaintance."

She placed her hand in his and he bent to kiss it, feeling a shiver of disgust slither down his spin.

"It is very nice to meet you, Colonel," she murmured in what she must have assumed as a seductive manner.

He felt like throwing up.

"I have heard of you, Colonel Tavington. You are the commander of the Green Dragoons, are you not?" she asked curiously.

"Yes, madam, I am," he answered.

Immediately, there was a change in the manner of the women surrounding them. Their eyes all seemed to suddenly train on him in one simultaneous motion. Of course they had all heard the rumors of the handsome, yet violent Green Dragoons leader. 'The Butcher' as he was called in private discussions held quite a great deal of interest to all of them. None of them had ever seen him in person and he here was now amongst them. He was like an interesting specimen to be examined with great care.

He shifted uneasily but was determined to see his scheme through.

"Well, we ladies have all heard a great deal about you. You have quite a reputation as a dangerous man," she remarked.

"Only dangerous to my enemies, madam," he replied smoothly.

She quirked an eyebrow up at this. "Indeed. I have also heard, Colonel Tavington, that you are currently with out a lady friend of any sort. Is that true?"

Now he knew he was treading on tumulus waters. He would have to answer carefully. He could almost feel the other women's stares burning holes through his coat. "Yes, madam, it is. I hardly think it fair to impose upon any woman in the midst of a war. My attention would be greatly divided between my military duties and my (if any) female interest." he paused as he let this information sink in before beginning to make his own advances. Although Miss Whitmore had put him in an awkward position she had also provided him with just the opening he needed. "However, I had heard that you were courting General O'Hara, is that true?"

She blushed demurely. "Yes, that is quite true. He is a fine man."

Tavington felt like gagging. "You must have a great deal of patience to handle such a man," he said quietly.

"What do you mean, Colonel?" she asked curiously.

He barely managed to conceal the evil grin that threatened to creep across his face. He cleared his throat and began to explain...

O'Hara finally managed to escape Cornwallis's ranting only by the timely arrival of the Simms. General Cornwallis had immediately begun to fawn over Mrs. Simms the moment she came into view. It had been quite easy for him to sneak away with out the General noticing. He was now searching hopefully for his lady friend, Miss Whitmore. Perhaps she would be able to improve his mood some what. He knew she would be here somewhere. She _never _missed a party, especially one as large as this.

He soon found her amidst a group of young woman, talking animatedly to...

His eyes widened in horror.

**_Tavington!_**

Miss Whitmore was talking in a rapid, angry way he had only been witness to a scant few times before. He was smart enough to know it was a very bad sign. Colonel Tavington appeared to be looking apologetic and seemed to be trying to calm her down. Yet, everything the bumbling Green Dragoons commander said only appeared to upset her more.

_By God, what was he saying to the poor woman?!_

Tavington must have sensed his presence because a moment later he was staring straight at O'Hara. An evil gleam flickered in Tavington's eyes for a moment before he turned back to Miss Whitmore. O'Hara felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as the Colonel gestured towards him as he spoke to Miss Whitmore. She suddenly spun in O'Hara's direction and glared. She stormed towards him, sparks seeming to leap from her eyes. She stopped in front of him and a for a moment he dared believe–

"How dare you!" she hissed in a low, furious tone.

Then her hand flew up and connected squarely with his cheek with a loud smack, snapping his head to the side with the force of it. Everyone in the immediate area went silent, staring in shock. O'Hara was to stunned to move or speak as she stormed away. He raised one hand to his stinging cheek and flinched. He looked up to see Tavington, still standing amidst the women, trying to look concerned while his shoulders shook in silent mirth.

Hatred.

That was all he could feel as he stared at the Green Dragoon's commander. Overwhelming hatred. Tavington had planned it all from the beginning. He humiliated O'Hara in front of, not only, his Lord General but the party attenders as well. There was no way he could implicate Tavington in either incident. The plans had been executed with a great deal of thought and foreknowledge. There was nothing O'Hara could do to him, and Tavington knew it. He would pay for this! O'Hara would make sure of it.

Colonel Tavington smiled triumphantly as he strode away leaving O'Hara trembling with barely controlled rage. For the first time in a very long time, he felt really good. All of the scouting missions and punishments had been repaid, but he was not done yet. Oh no, O'Hara had picked a fight with the wrong man and Tavington was not yet ready to end the private war. In the mean time, he could celebrate happily knowing he had won this battle. He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing server fully intent on making the most of his victory.

"Colonel Viking!" a familiar but unwanted voice interrupted his pleasant thoughts and made him freeze in mid-stride.

He glanced over to see the girl from his first scouting mission standing beside Captain Bordon, who had the gall to look sheepish. The two must have been 'conversing' quite intimately before he happened to walk by if their close proximity meant anything. Bordon was looking quite dashing in his dress uniform; and the girl was quite lovely as well. She was dressed in a floral print dress with her hair piled elegantly behind her head held up by interwoven strings of beads. She was one of the few women at the party without overdone make up and 'fashionable' accessories. He had to admit that she did look quite beautiful. Not that he would ever say so out loud, in fact, the first thing he blurted out what was not very polite at all.

"How did you manage to get invited here?"

She sighed in a pitying manner. "Still as rude and ill mannered as ever I see."

Bordon was giving his Colonel an exasperated look much like a parent would give to his badly behaved child. Tavington refused to let Bordon make him feel guilty. After all who was the commander here?

"Colonel Tavington, I do not believe you were ever formally introduced to Miss Andrea Blythe," Bordon quickly stepped in before the Colonel could think up a good sarcastic response to return. "Her father was an assembly man for South Carolina and is the owner of quite an extensive plantation."

"I see," Tavington replied indifferently. Bordon was once again informing him subtly that it would be best not offend this certain guest.

Andrea watched the silent exchange between the two officers with careful scrutiny. Any fool could tell there was something going on underneath the words Captain Bordon had spoken. Before she could figure it out for sure, Tavington excused himself and strode away. Bordon was rather surprised that the Colonel had taken the hint and not said anything further. In fact, he noticed that Tavington seemed to be in rather a good mood and that unsettled him even more. What could possibly have happened to put his Colonel in such amiable spirits? He decided he probably did not want to know.

Tavington strolled about the grounds of Middleton place feeling relaxed for the first time in a very long while. It was rather odd, he thought, since he was at all ball. He usually found them very dull, over extravagant, and a complete waste of time. This was perhaps the only ball that had ever proved to be entertaining for him. It also felt particularly good not to have anywhere he was expected to be at or have some assignment he had to do. Everything else could wait for a little while.

No sooner had he thought this then a loud explosion sent him spinning around to face the river. One of the supply ships had been blown apart and what was left had burst into flames. His shoulders slumped as he watched the falling debris shoot out in every direction over the water.

_Ahhhh...hell,_ he thought with a dismal sigh, _And the evening was just beginning to improve._

He raised his glass in a toast to the burning ship. _Here's to King George,_ he toasted cynically before tossing the last of his wine to the back of his throat. He dropped his wine glass on the ground and felt some small satisfaction at the sound of shattering glass. Destroying things always did feel so good.

Then he went off to find Cornwallis.

So there you have it for now. Remember be a responsible reader and review, because a writer is nothing without the fans. :D

Also thanks to all the wonderful reviews so far. I really appreciate you guys giving me your opinons. I will try my best to keep this story going and perhaps give some more insight into Tavington's inner workings or I might just save that for another Patriot story I've been cooking up for a while. And if you guys want to give me any ideas about possible revenge schemes or anything you'd like to see happen in the story I will see if I can work them. Help is always good to have. Anywho, thanks again y'all until the next chapter!!


	5. The Aftereffects of Euphoria

Disclaimer: If I owned Tavington I wouldn't be sitting here would I?

A/N: Alrighty, back for another chapter. Sorry guys but this one is a gonna be more serious then the last ones. But what did you expect after everything that happened in the last one. Don't worry guys we'll get back to the funny stuff soon. Also, I'm gonna try a new way to break up certain parts of the story that keep running together, because wpd files don't save right on So it will be where there are time or character switch overs. It most likely be a long line of random letters or something. So if you see that you know there is a time or character change. Ok? In the mean time bear with me and enjoy this chapter!

FLFLFLFLFLFLF

General Cornwallis was seething. One would have had to be deaf, blind, and stupid not to notice that the second they stepped in the room. The General was stomping about the room and ranting at the top of his voice while his second in command, O'Hara, and the Dragoon's commander, Tavington, stood silently by the door. Both waited with nervous anxiety for Cornwallis to turn their wrath on them. Tavington resisted the urge to shift his weight from one foot to the other, instead he clenched his fists tighter behind his back.

Finally, the General turned to face them and as Tavington suspected Cornwallis's anger was aimed at him.

"Colonel Tavington, I have reason to believe that you knew something about this rebel attack prior to its happening. Is that true?" General Cornwallis asked in a deadly calm tone.

The Colonel shifted slightly. Cornwallis's calm expression was much worse than his earlier ranting. He could not read much of his superior's emotions the way it was being masked and that was not good. "No, my Lord, I did not." he answered truthfully.

"Yet, earlier in the evening you told General O'Hara that you suspected something of that sort and had the transfer of supplies changed. Correct?" Cornwallis's eyes bore into his subordinate's.

Tavington replied quietly. "Yes, my Lord."

"And yet, you say that you knew nothing of this attack. That is rather suspicious sounding, would you not agree? Would you please explain to me how it is you seemed to have known and not to have known about it?" the General growled, his calm exterior beginning to be strained.

Tavington muttered something inaudibly as he stared at the floor.

"Colonel Tavington! Answer the question!" Cornwallis nearly shouted, his calm exterior cracking in one explosive outburst.

Tavington's head snapped up and he stared his commanding officer square in the eye. His pride stung at the way the General yelled at him like he was an insolent child. His father had done the same to him to many times to count and he _hated_ it! "It was meant as a prank, my Lord," he answered louder.

"A prank?" a note of disbelief crept into Cornwallis's voice.

"Yes, sir, on General O'Hara. I gave him false information to change the order and there by getting him in trouble with you. I knew nothing about a true intended attack meant for tonight," he confessed, much to O'Hara's delight. "I swear that was all it was, my Lord."

General Cornwallis was amazed. "You lied to a superior officer as a prank? May I ask _why_?"

"It was a foolish whim, my Lord," he whispered almost to softly to hear.

O'Hara looked ready to spit fire. Tavington had planned the whole act on purpose as revenge on him! Surely, Cornwallis would see right through such a blatant lie as that! However, he was not willing to face the General's wrath if he spook up now. Let Tavington take Cornwallis's anger. He wanted no part of it.

If at all possible Cornwallis's expression became even more disbelieving. "You gave General O'Hara false information on a **_whim!?_**"

The Dragoon's leader lowered his eyes to the floor again as though it had suddenly become very interesting. "Yes, my Lord. I suppose I thought it would be amusing."

General Cornwallis's face went red with fury. "Your foolishness caused us to lose more than half our ammunition and guns when that ship was destroyed!"

"Pardon me, sir, but you did order O'Hara to unload your wardrobe even after hearing about a possible attack, whether the information was true or false." Colonel Tavington pointed out.

"Do not dare be insolent with me, Colonel Tavington! One would not expect the Ghost and his_ vagrants _to be able to sneak onto our loading docks surrounded by capable soldiers so close to such a large gathering of enemies and blow up our supply ships!"

Tavington took a deep breath, his own temper beginning to creep into his expression and tone when he spoke. "Yes, I understand that, my Lord–"

"I want to know how those militia men got near those supply ships!" Cornwallis raised his voice, cutting his subordinate off. He had no interest in what Tavington had to say. Frankly, this crisis was all the Dragoon's commander's fault and he wanted retribution. It did not matter from whom. "There were soldiers at every for see able location a spy might break in! This was all planned carefully from the start of this ball. That Middleton probably invited us here to witness the display first hand. He is a suspect. We must find proof that was involved so he can be apprehended for his actions! As for those rebels..."

"Perhaps, my Lord, the rebels disgui–"

"Silence, Colonel Tavington! If I wanted to hear your opinion I would ask for it!"

Tavington's mouth snapped shut as he tried to hide the anger and resentment simmering just beneath the surface. O'Hara smirked as he watched the Colonel's jaw clench as he scowled. Now, this was sweet vengeance to see his nemesis being verbally ripped apart in front of him. Feeling bold, because of his subordinate's behavior O'Hara decided now was the best time to speak up. Maybe if he pulled this off he would never have to see Colonel Tavington ever again.

"Perhaps, my Lord General, you are correct that it was all planned precisely from the beginning. Yet, they would need the help of a spy to plan such an attack as this so carefully. I wonder if Colonel Tavington was really involved in this. He could have purposely led me on so that he would receive praise for his foresight if he caught the rebels in the act of stealing ammuntions." O'Hara suggested slyly as he pretended to look 'sorrowful' at having to say such things.

Colonel Tavington looked ready to kill. Rage and hatred roiled sickeningly in his stomach as he glared over at O'Hara. There was also fear that Cornwallis would believe his second in command rather than he. No, it was not just fear, it was panic. "Surely, my Lord, you do not believe that! I abhor the Ghost and his legion of followers! I did not know they would attack tonight. I know it appears otherwise, but I assure you that I merely intended my information as a joke. I never–"he burst out, desperate to prove he was innocent of General O'Hara's accusations.

"Colonel Tavington! You will speak when addressed! Remember your place!" Cornwallis lashed out at him.

Tavington looked like a kicked puppy as he backed down and dropped his gaze to the floor once more. O'Hara felt like dancing for glee. It was perfect. Tavington's reaction practically screamed guilt. He could not ask for a better way to get back at his most hated enemy. He had won. He knew it. He was free of Tavington. He had just been accused of treason and the penalty for that was death.

Cornwallis stalked about his room once more this time in silence. When he seemed to have made up his mind about the matter he turned back to Tavington. "I do not believe you would do such a thing, Colonel Tavington. Your hatred for the colonials is to strong and genuine for me to suspect you of being a spy. However, you behaved badly this evening to a superior officer once more though thankfully it was not in your usual, violent manner. You will be receiving punishment for this, but later. First, you will be in charge of the investigation to uncover how those rebels were able to manage such a trick."

O'Hara's mouth dropped open in disbelief at the same time Tavington's posture went lax with relief.

"Surely, my Lord, you can not–"O'Hara sputtered.

"Are you doubting my judgement, General O'Hara?" Cornwallis turned his glare on his second in command.

"N-no, my Lord," he stammered out.

"Good." Cornwallis looked back at Tavington. "You are dismissed Colonel to begin the investigation. You will report back for your punishment at further notice. Is that understood?"

Tavington nodded. "Yes, my Lord," he murmured then hurried out of the room before anything else could possibly be done. O'Hara watched him leave, listening to Cornwallis rant further about losing his replacement wardrobe with half his attention and vowing silently that he would have his revenge upon Tavington.

FLFLFLFLFL

Tavington sat once more bent over a mug of ale. He had managed to sneak away to a pub after a 'full investigation' as to just how the rebels had snuck onto the docks. Bordon had, of course, come with him. He had been unable to dissuade his Colonel from coming, but Tavington had threatened to kill him if he didn't move out of his way. So being the wise, life loving person that he was he stepped aside _then_ followed Tavington there. After all someone had to be there in case the Colonel got violent again. So here he was once more sitting beside his superior waiting anxiously for something to go wrong.

"Could you please explain to me, Bordon, why it is I who must be blamed for everything that happens to the General?" Tavington glared down into his mug as though it would give him the answer.

"Sorry, sir?"

Tavington slumped lower in his seat. "I, of course, got blamed for withholding information about a possible rebel attack, then I told him it was meant as a prank, and was told it was my fault the rebels had been able to destroy one of our supply ships. And he was also upset that his replacement wardrobe had only been half unloaded. So now he only has half of his outfits, God forbid. Never mind the ammunition and guns we lost. Never mind that we lost several good soldiers! Never mind that it was he who ordered O'Hara to unload his wardrobe before the necessary essentials! Never mind that if anyone is to blame for what happened it should be him or the Ghost and not me!!" He paused for a moment to catch his breath. "To make the whole evening exceptionally lovely the investigation only proved what I knew already. The damn colonials snuck on the docks in British uniforms stolen, off the dead judging by the smell. We found the uniforms left in an alley near by. I, then have to report this back to Cornwallis who yells at me once more for not having suspected something like that much sooner! Insufferable! That man, my military career, my entire life is insufferable! Perhaps I will go throw myself in front of a cannon!"

Bordon opened his mouth to say something to hopefully calm Tavington down.

"No, I don't even want to hear any fake or half truths to help calm me or soothe my nerves," the Colonel cut him off.

Bordon stared at him in complete surprise.

"You didn't think I realized that's what you were doing? I'm not a fool, Bordon. I know why you follow me everywhere and know that Cornwallis ordered you to watch over me as though I was some delinquent child in need of constant supervision." Tavington sighed and covered his eyes with one hand. "Even the one man I might call friend is bought and paid for by my superiors."

"I think that is somewhat unfair," Bordon remarked quietly. He was taken aback to hear that his superior actually thought of him as somewhat of a friend. He was actually quite pleased to hear it.

"Are you going to deny it?" Tavington lowered his hand to gaze at him.

Bordon shook his head. "I will not deny that, yes General Cornwallis asked me to watch over you at first."

"At first?"

"I do not do it for the General, sir. Not anymore at least."

Tavington started to laugh. "I suppose you want to tell me it's because you think of me as a friend now. Rubbish. Friends are nothing. They can be bought, betrayed, and left at one's own convenience."

"I do not believe that, sir."

"Believe what ever idealistic shit you wish, but that is what I've learned."

Bordon watched Tavington as he drained his mug and motioned for another. He felt sorrow for this jaded man who never knew what it was like to have friends and family who loved you and would do anything for you.

"Perhaps, sir, you do not think of me as a friend but I consider you **my** friend." Bordon said almost inaudibly.

Tavington went very still before turning to face his subordinate. He studied Bordon for a long moment trying to judge to sincerity of his words. "That is almost believable, Bordon. Very good. You are becoming quite adept at acting."

He simply could not accept that anyone would ever want to be friends with him unless they were being bribed. He sighed heavily and chugged down the rest of his ale, then motioned for another. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Tavington ventured a glance at his subordinate to see a hurt expression on Bordon's face. He wanted desperately to believe that Bordon's words were true, but he had been betrayed and black mailed to many times by so called 'friends.' He would never trust anyone again.

Tavington drank until the room around him grew fuzzy and for once his manner did not become violent. It seemed he was to lost in his own despair and misery to get angry. It worried Bordon that his Colonel was so depressed. He tried to forget Tavington's words earlier but he could not. He had hoped that perhaps the Colonel would realize that he did have someone he could rely on. He did not know what he expected to happen since it was Tavington. Pretty soon he was feeling depressed as well and wondering if he could drown his sorrows in ale like the Colonel was.

"Never enough, Bordon," Tavington suddenly spoke up, startling his subordinate. Bordon lifted his head up from where he had been resting it on the palm of his hand. "I am never good enough. Not for General Cornwallis, not for my teachers, and most especially my father. They always found reasons to criticize me. No matter how hard I try I still fail in their eyes. If anything goes wrong it is always my fault. I always get blamed. For once I would just like to be good enough to someone," he propped his chin up on his hand, staring with partially glazed eyes past Bordon.. "I would like to be praised for once instead of being informed of my imperfections or where I failed."

Bordon pitied him now. "I think, sir, if I may be so bold, that you are an excellent commander despite what Cornwallis says."

"Bordon, stop trying to be my friend. You do not need to say such things to get on my good side," Tavington took another gulp of ale, then glared moodily down into his mug.

"I told you before, sir, that I thought of you as a friend and I was not lying then. I am not lying now. I wish you would believe that my words are true," Bordon remarked patiently with a hint of sadness slipping into his voice. "I find you admirable, Colonel. Granted your methods of achieving what you desire are some what unorthodox and cruel at times. Yet you always attain what you strive for."

Tavington looked up at his subordinate skeptically. "Would you still say the same if my 'unorthodox' methods were to put you in ill favor with Cornwallis?"

"Yes, sir, I would. Damn Cornwallis!" he snapped his patience and mildness slipping after the ale he had drunk and Tavington's stubbornness wearing at him.

Colonel Tavington smiled. A true, genuinely pleased smile. It was amazing how much it transformed the Colonel's face. He suddenly looked like a happy little boy who had been told Christmas was coming early. "Now that, Bordon, I do believe." Feeling suddenly much better, he stood up and dropped a few coins for the ale down on the table. "Come, Bordon. We should go back before we are discovered to be missing."

He turned and headed out the door with his Captain following closely behind him. Bordon was a little taken aback at the sudden cheerful like change in Tavington's manner. Apparently, his words had finally got through to the Colonel and had made Tavington rather pleased. Of course, the Colonel did not say so out loud but his actions spoke for themselves. Bordon smiled secretly behind his superior's back, happy to have finally cracked Tavington's tough exterior–even if only a little.

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Tavington found himself once more called to Cornwallis's office. This time he knew for sure what he had been summoned for. It had been two days since the ship incident and he had yet to receive his 'punishment.' He knew that this was it. It was time to find out whatever psychotic disciplinary action he was to be given this time. If his previous punishments had anything to say for Cornwallis's creative nature then he was not looking forward to it at all.

He stood, straight backed and tense, in front of the General's desk as his superior pretended to be occupied with his map of Ohio once more. He gritted his teeth, knowing Cornwallis was doing it only to irritate him. He did not need a shop sign hung on his chest to announce that his superior's ploy was working. He took a deep breath a blew it out while his hands clenched into fists by his sides.

"Well, Colonel Tavington, I have devised a proper punishment for you foolish antic at the ball," General Cornwallis straightened up and stared at him. "You may thank General O'Hara for this one. It was he who gave me the idea."

Tavington felt a sinking feelings in his stomach.

"We were just graced with twenty new colonial recruits who will join our militia. However, they are in desperate need of some military training and bearing. They are undisciplined, uneducated, and to say the least quite beneath such gentleman as we, officers are supposed to be." The Colonel did miss the jab at his character, but kept his mouth shut–barely. "You are to be in charge of these...yokels. You will train them in the art of war. Each man must be able to load and shoot their guns quickly and accurately. You will see to it that they are outfitted and provisioned with the proper equipment. You will see to this all personally. They will be your responsibility. Captain Bordon will take over your duties as Dragoon's commander until your assignment is carried out. I want these men trained and ready to fight in under a month. Is that understood?" Cornwallis explained carefully.

Tavington stood for a long moment staring at him in complete disgust and disbelief. He could not hide how he felt about this punishment. Bull shit. That is what he thought. Colonials. **He **had to train colonials. He hated them! Their morals and loyalties were subject to change whenever the little bastards damn well pleased. Why the hell was Cornwallis accepting such questionable recruits? And of all the people to choose to train them! Oh yes, the whole thing was definitely O'Hara's idea. He was, of course, seeking revenge for what Tavington had done to him at the ball. It was the perfect plan to get the colonial hating Colonel caught up in. That pompous arrogant little–

"Is that understood, Colonel Tavington?" Cornwallis ground out impatiently.

"Yes, my Lord, very," Tavington answered in a constricted voice.

Cornwallis nodded in satisfaction. "Good, General O'Hara will take you to the new recruits now. You are to meet them today and begin their training tomorrow. You are dismissed."

The General waved him away. Tavington tried not to glower as he stalked stiffly out to where O'Hara was waiting for him. He wished that he could tell the pansy how much he hated his guts and that if he was not afraid of being discharged there would be a bullet lodged between those little pig eyes. O'Hara seemed to know all this without being told. However, he acted completely oblivious to Tavington's ice cold glare as he led the Colonel away to meet his new recruits. The next month was going to be the best yet, Tavington thought cynically. He did take comfort in the fact that he could take some of his wrath out on the colonials. That brought a pleased smile to his face.

"By the way, Colonel Tavington, General Cornwallis told me to mention that you are not allowed to harm the colonials," O'Hara destroyed those lovely thoughts before they got far.

Tavington felt the usual scowl return as his hopes that the whole deal was not a total lose shattered. He hated O'Hara. Damn him, and damn Cornwallis, and most of all damn those idiot colonials. His life was turning into a living hell.

Thanks for reading! Be a responsible reader and review!

Special thanks to all you that have read and reviewed. You guys really keep me going. I'm sorry that I don't answer all your reviews personally on here, but working keeps me very busy. All I can say is a ton of thank yous and that I hope y'all continue to come back for more. Anywho, until next time! I'm off to watch my Van Helsing DVD! Whoohoooo!! Hugh Jackman!!! ;)


	6. The Colonel and Colonials

Disclaimer: I do not own Patriot or any of the characters I happen to be taking liberty with. And Tavington is not currently locked up in my closet. I don't know where you heard that rumor but it is a lie. –looks innocent–

A/N: I'm really sorry I've not updated in so long. I've been very busy with playing nanny, going to weddings, and trying not to become a mass murderer of dogs. I'm just happy I finally finished this chapter. I don't think it's that great, but I'll leave that to you to decide. And I'm sorry it's so short compared to my other chapters. Anyways, I'll shut up. Hope you enjoy!

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Tavington found himself once more called to Cornwallis's office. This time he knew for sure what he had been summoned for. It had been two days since the ship incident and he had yet to receive his 'punishment.' He knew that this was it. It was time to find out whatever psychotic disciplinary action he was to be given this time. If his previous punishments had anything to say for Cornwallis's creative nature then he was not looking forward to it at all.

He stood, straight backed and tense, in front of the General's desk as his superior pretended to be occupied with his map of Ohio once more. He gritted his teeth, knowing Cornwallis was doing it only to irritate him. He did not need a bold lettered sign hung on his chest to announce that his superior's ploy was working. He took a deep breath a blew it out slowly while his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

"Well, Colonel Tavington, I have devised a proper punishment for you foolish antic at the ball," General Cornwallis straightened up and stared at him. "You may thank General O'Hara for this one. It was he who gave me the idea."

Tavington felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"We were just graced with twenty new colonial recruits who will join our militia. However, they are in desperate need of some military training and bearing. They are undisciplined, uneducated, and to say the least quite beneath such gentleman as we officers are supposed to be." The Colonel did miss the jab at his character, but kept his mouth shut–barely. "You are to be in charge of these...ruffians. You will train them in the art of war. Each man must be able to load and shoot their guns quickly and accurately. You will see to it that they are outfitted and provisioned with the proper equipment. You will see to this all **personally**. They will be your responsibility. Captain Bordon will take over your duties as Dragoon's commander until your assignment is carried out. I want these men trained and ready to fight in under a month. Is that understood?" Cornwallis explained carefully.

Tavington stood for a long moment staring at him in complete disgust and disbelief. He could not hide how he felt about this punishment. Bull shit. That is what he thought. Colonials. **He **had to train colonials. He hated them! Their morals and loyalties were subject to change whenever the little bastards damn well pleased. Why the hell was Cornwallis accepting such questionable recruits? And of all the people to choose to train them! Oh yes, the whole thing was definitely O'Hara's idea. He was, of course, seeking revenge for what Tavington had done to him at the ball. It was the perfect plan to get the colonial hating Colonel caught up in. That pompous arrogant little–

"Is that understood, Colonel Tavington?" Cornwallis ground out impatiently.

"Yes, my Lord, very," Tavington answered in a constricted voice.

Cornwallis nodded in satisfaction. "Good, General O'Hara will take you to the new recruits now. You are to meet them today and begin their training tomorrow. You are dismissed."

The General waved him away. Tavington tried not to glower as he stalked stiffly out to where O'Hara was waiting for him. He wished that he could tell the pansy how much he hated his guts and that if he was not afraid of being discharged there would be a bullet lodged between those little pig eyes. O'Hara seemed to know all this without being told. However, he acted completely oblivious to Tavington's ice cold glare as he led the Colonel away to meet his new recruits. The next month was going to be the best yet, Tavington thought cynically. He did take comfort in the fact that he could take some of his wrath out on the colonials. That brought a pleased smile to his face.

"By the way, Colonel Tavington, General Cornwallis told me to mention that you are not allowed to harm the colonials," O'Hara destroyed those lovely thoughts before they got far.

Tavington felt the usual scowl return as his hopes that the whole deal was not a total lose shattered. He hated O'Hara. Damn him, and damn Cornwallis, and most of all damn those idiot colonials. His life was turning into a living hell.

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He stood before a group of twenty men, aging anywhere from 16 to 30. They were a rag tag bunch of poorly dressed farmers, shops men, merchants, and assorted other individuals. They looked as if they had marched through every bog in South Carolina to get to the British fort. All of them stood ram rod straight as he scrutinized them. They had all heard stories of the 'Butcher.' None of them every dreamed in their worst nightmares that he would be their training commander. Despite their stiff figures, the Colonel could easily read the anxiety and fear in their eyes and expressions. That gave him some satisfaction to know he had that kind of power over the sad lot with out even having opened his mouth yet.

Tavington sighed wearily as he studied the pitiful miscreant band. He had his work cut out for him. Most of these men looked as though had never had to deal with violence or battle of any sort. Every last one of them looked as if they wished they were anywhere else but here. Of course, he did not blame them for that because he felt exactly the same. Still, with less than a month to train these men into a fit fighting unit, the task seemed less than pleasant. What to do with them? Where to begin?

He folded his arms behind his back and began to pace up and down in front of them as he thought it over. He glanced up to see General O'Hara standing off to the side watching him with an open expression of amusement. Tavington glared at him and stalked over.

"General O'Hara, I do not believe it is necessary for you to be here. I have this under control," he ground out.

General O'Hara smirked. "On the contrary, Colonel Tavington. General Cornwallis thought it best if I stayed for their first day of training to see if you would be adequate in handling this assignment."

Tavington clenched his teeth together, willing himself not to say a word as he spun around and stormed back towards his new recruited men. The men all straightened up, if possible, even more than before. Their nervousness was nearly tangible to the irritated Dragoon's commander. He paced back and forth once more, muttering nasty remarks under his breath about O'Hara as well as the group of 'pathetic ruffians' he was assigned to.

He suddenly whirled about to face all twenty men with a savage gleam in his eyes. They all shrank back a step as his attention was now focused entirely on them.

"How many of you can load and shoot a gun at a man without flinching?" he glared at them all.

No one said a word.

"How many of you have ever seen a battle?"

Still nothing.

"How many of you even know how to load and shoot?"

Almost all the men stepped forward.

"Well, that must be worth something," Tavington growled. He ran one hand down his face. "Now listen all of you. My name is Colonel William Tavington. I will be training you all in the art of war. You will refer to me as sir or Colonel–."

"Are you the Green Dragoon's leader?" one of the younger men blurted out.

He turned to stare at the young man. "I do not appreciate being interrupted. The next man who does so will regret it. I will not stand for insubordination and rebellion. You will do as you are told or there will be consequences–and I assure you they will not be pleasant. Is that understood?"

They all shifted about nervously.

"Is that understood?"

They all exclaimed in unison. "Yes, Colonel Tavington!"

"Good."

Tavington stayed with the rag tag group for the rest of the day, getting them outfitted in uniforms and supplying them with their own weapons, ammunition, and rations. By the time he was done he was ready to drown himself in the nearest river. General O'Hara informed him, with great glee, that he was to camp with the colonial recruits until their training was complete so that he could watch over them. Now not only was he assigned to train the little bastards, he had to sleep near them as well. He wondered if anyone would notice if he strangled O'Hara and left him in the manure pile behind the barn.

It was late when he finally gathered up his belongs and carried them over to the new recruits' camp. They had been placed in the center of the camp so that the rest of the regulars could keep an eye on them should any decide to try something foolish–like running away. They would of course be dragged back in less than an eye blink and promptly be made an example of. Tavington hoped one of them would try so he had an excuse to be violent.

He moved silently into the colonials' little camp, not wanting to wake those who were already sleeping and interested in hearing what the few around the camp fire were discussing so intently. He stashed his belongs in the tent that had been set up for him (thank God for small favors) before sneaking closer to the fire while staying out of sight.

"I tell you, mates, I am still glad we chose the British side. Despite that Ghost character, the rebels are losing. I do not want to be on the losing side when the war ends," one older man was telling the rest. Tavington rolled his eyes to himself.

There was a murmur of general agreement.

"I do not know if I would have, had I known we were to be trained by the 'Butcher.'" another remarked.

"Aye, I heard he's a right brute to the rebels," a thick accented man puffed on his pipe importantly. "I bet ye laddies a pretty shilling though that he be the one to bring down the Ghost and his followers."

The others nodded and murmured there assents.

"Well, he still scares me. That man has the eyes of a killer. The good Lord knows what he will do to train us properly in 'the art of war.'" the one who had spoken out of turn earlier in the day said.

"Yes, he might put us all in front of a loaded cannon or some thing like that to see who runs first," the first man joked.

The man with pipe frowned. "Hush, now. Do not be saying such things."

However, it was to late to take back the words. The damage was done though the colonials were unsuspecting of it. The fellow had inspired Tavington in a very bad way. The Colonel grinned viciously in the darkness as he retreated back to his tent to perfect his plans. Oh yes, this could prove to be quite entertaining after all. O'Hara would be unable to do anything because he would not harm them–just scare them shitless. If the recruits did not die of heart failure they would come out of the training with nerves like iron.

It was with sadistic glee that he awoke early and began putting his plans into motion. If General Cornwallis wanted these new recruits ready for battles in under a month then by God he would deliver. Not only that, he would make sure they were the finest soldiers out on the field amongst the regulars. He wanted them to be known for having been trained under him. He was no longer facing this challenge with dread or loathing as he had. Now he faced it with ambition and anticipation. Perhaps he should thank O'Hara for the opportunity to make the arrogant prick shove his shoe in his ass in disbelief.

Like hell he would.

He sent for his new recruits to join him out on the training field just before noon. He watched their expressions with veiled humor. He stood in the center of the field watching them line up horizontally to face him. Behind him, four cannons stood primed and ready with a crew to man each one. No matter where any of them stood they were all in the line of fire from one more of the cannons.

He watched them shift about nervously, eyes flitting about like beasts sensing a trap. He barely managed to hold back his smile of savage delight. He heard the thundering of horses' hooves crossing the field, and turned to see Bordon leading ten Dragoons including Wilkins' towards him.

"Good afternoon, Captain Bordon," Colonel Tavington greeted the stocky man pleasantly as he drew to a halt by the colonel's side.

Bordon merely blinked at the unusual polite behavior. He had grown used to Tavington's odd moods and found it better not to ask when in doubt. He returned the pleasantries in kind, feeling strangely for doing so. He shrugged it off and waited for the Colonel's orders. Tavington quickly explained his plans to Bordon, who tried not to look surprised. He was more than a little uneasy about the whole idea, but knew there was no point in voicing his opinion. He spun his horse away from Tavington with trepidation when the last of his orders had been given. The rest of his Dragoons followed him without question.

Colonel Tavington watched in satisfaction as the Dragoon's lined up behind the recruits only a few dozen yards behind them. The colonials began even more nervous which Tavington had not even thought possible.

"Now pay attention men!" Tavington's sudden declaration startled them. They all went rigid and stared at him with widened eyes. "This will be your first test. These cannons will be firing upon you–fully loaded. You are to stand your ground and, if you have enough courage, advance when I give the order. Any who try to run will be forestalled by my Dragoons. If you do try to run I guarantee you there will be some most unpleasant consequences. Is this understood?"

There was complete silence. No one moved.

"Good. Prepare yourselves."

Tavington nodded to the crews of the cannons and stepped back. There was a massive explosion of sound as four cannons fired in unison at the group of terrified recruits.

The reaction was instantaneous, and he could not help but feel a measure of cruel amusement from the colonials fear. Most fell to the ground as though they had truly been struck. The less wiser ones turned and tried to flee. They were immediately caught by the line of waiting Dragoons. Only two were bold enough to stay their ground. He could see them trembling from where he stood. Whether from fear of him or sheer courage the Colonel was impressed by their will to not cower like the rest.

When the smoke had cleared the colonials slowly peered up from their lowly positions on the ground. He smirked at their confused expressions. The cannon fire had been a ruse. They had only fired a large measure of gun powder. He stalked back out into the field to stand just in front of them, gazing down at them in the manner of patronizing father.

"On your feet!" he snapped.

They all scrambled to their feet, looking ashamed, bewildered, and still more than a little frightened.

"I am disappointed. It appears only two out of all of you were brave enough to stand their ground," he beckoned for those two recruits to come forward. After obtaining their names, he turned back to the others. "These men are your new superiors. When I am not here to provide child care for all of you these two men will be the ones giving orders. I expect you to show them respect and listen when they issue commands. Is that clear?"

There was a quiet murmuring of assent.

"As for those who foolish thought they could escape...," he turned his cold blue gaze to the pitiful little group that had been herded into a circle like cattle. "You will be receiving due punishment."

He sneered as their eyes went wide and they began to tremble. This was the kind of training he could handle. He took far to much pleasure than was probably healthy in frightening them. However, by the time he was done with them there would not be one amongst them who could not face down cannon fire and not flinch. This was the first of only many desensitizing training tactics. They would be wishing to face done the cannons when he was finished with them.

He smiled savagely before ordering the continue of the cannon training. He would make their life as much a hell as his was turning into, because he admitted, misery loves company.

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Alright, that's all for now. I'll try to update a lot sooner than I did this last time, but I'm not guaranteeing anything because I have no idea where this fic is going. shrugs Not that such a thing was ever important to this story in the first place. Oh well. Until the next update!


	7. Thwarted Triumph

Disclaimer: The Patriot and anything pertaining to it is obviously not mine. However, that does not mean I can not own Jason Isaacs. Mwua ha ha ha ha!

A/N: Yes, it's been a while since I updated. I finally got off my lazy ass and wrote another chapter after several demands from you guys. So here it is. Hope y'all enjoy it!

P.A.T.R.O.I.T

After the first day of training, Tavington was looking forward to the next. The assignment he thought would be so terrible was now shaping up to be quite the amusing project. He could hardly stand the wait of a night to start training again in the morning. It came soon enough though.

The next day, he stalked purposely out onto the field carrying a large basket with the men following in a two neat rows behind him. When they had reached the middle of the training field, he set down the basket and turned to face them. He ordered them all once more in a line before him. Today, their fear was nearly tangible. The pitiful few men that had tried to run during the first training session would swiftly learned to never act cowardly again. Tavington's punishment would be cruel but effective.

Strode up and down the line, speaking loudly so all could here him. "You must not be afraid to shoot a man! The rebels are your enemies no matter if they were once you neighbors! Do you think the Ghost's militia will show you any mercy! We are at war! Mercy has no place in it contrary to popular belief!"

They shifted their weight nervously. The fact that their anxiety was so thick that he could almost taste it made him smile. The expression on his face made them tremble. Ahhh, how he loved instilling fear into these simpletons.

"Where are the men that tried to run away from their training?" Tavington asked calmly as though the matter were no more important than the weather or the color of ones underpants.

Six men stepped forward like they were heading for the gallows. He gestured for them to come form a line near him then he ignored them for a moment. Instead he focused his attention on a young man probably not even out of his teens that was standing with the remaining men in the first line.

"You, boy! Do you believe you can shot a man?" he glared at the poor young fool.

The boy practically jumped out of his skin when addressed. "Y-yes, sir!"

"Really?" Tavington remarked in amusement.

The boy gulped. "Yes, sir!"

"Shot him," Tavington pointed to one of the six men standing away from the others. His voice was smooth and his expression disinterested. He may as well have been pointing out a piece of dust.

"B-beg your p-pard-?"

"Shot him dammit! You heard me!"

The young man nearly dropped his gun. "B-b-but!"

"Now!" Tavington bellowed, finally losing his temper. He drew his own pistol and leveled it at the boy. "Shot him or I will shot you!"

The young man fumbled with his gun in his haste to bring it to bear on his target. Tavington pulled the trigger of his pistol. The gun exploded in a loud bang of released gun powder and the bullet went spinning off in the direction of the hapless young man. The boy's gunshot echoed Tavington's report only a second behind. When the smoke cleared and the echo of the gun shots faded, the young man and his intended target still stood–though barely– on quivering legs. The boy's hat lay on the ground behind him with a bullet hole in it while the man who had been his target stood unscathed but nearly ready to faint from fear. Tavington stood as cool and collected as ever. It seemed as though he has not even batted an eye at the whole endeavor. The rest of the men were to stunned by Tavington's newest training idea to move or make a sound.

"You must learn to put your bullet where you intend it to be! Missing is not an option! It is a waste of a bullet that we can not afford! You shoot what you aim for! Do you understand?" He snapped.

The men jumped and gave quick nervous affirmatives.

"You can not show fear! You must be willing to kill or be killed! Your enemy will not discriminate who they shot while in battle whether you were once a friend or not! You shot or you die. It is that simple." Tavington scowled at all of them for a long moment then he turned his attention back to the boy. "Now. Reload!" he ordered.

The young man hurried to comply.

"Shoot him!" Tavington indicated a new target. "Hit what you aim for."

This time the young man's aim was steady and true. The loud crack from the gun shattered the stillness. His target's hat sailed from his head and landed with a dull thump on the ground.

"Good!" Tavington smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. If anything he looked more sinister when he smiled that way. The men wished he would go back to scowling at them. When he smiled they never knew what the Colonel was thinking and it was usually something bad. Tavington reached down into the basket he brought with him. He pulled out several small green apples. He walked to each of the six men being used for targets and placed an apple on their heads. He turned around, staring at the young man he had chosen as his first victim. "Do it again," he commanded. "Aim for the apple."

The young man swallowed and did as he was told. Over and over they all did the exercise for the rest of the afternoon. The exercise was not only to erase the fear of shooting a man but also to refine their aim. It worked well on both accounts. The men managed to not hit their own while shooting decently at what they aimed for. Tavington felt somewhat satisfied by the out come of teaching them aiming techniques but more so by getting to act cruel and get away with it.

The rest of the month went by quickly. Each day was more fun for him then last while the men remained as fearful of him as the first day they had met him. The fact that they were still frightened of him was a source of great entertainment to him. He did not give them a moment to relax or feel secure. He wanted to keep them off balance. He wanted to teach them to be ready to fight in any situation. He did endless drills, hand to hand combat training–sometimes pitting them against his Dragoons–, and learning to hit moving targets. He taught them how to survive on their own if separated from the army and surrounded by enemies. He taught them to load and shot under any circumstances in any kind of situation or weather. They learned how to march, the rules of war, how to work together, and much more. The colonials learned all to well why the rebels feared the Colonel of the Green Dragoons so much.

P.A.T.R.O.I.T

"My Lord, really, his training is abominable! He is training them to fight like savages!" O'Hara protested after seeing the latest methods Tavington was using. Of course, he had run to Cornwallis right away to squeal on his nemesis. Any opportunity to land Tavington into more trouble was always a welcome indulgence. However, this time Cornwallis was not acting nearly as concerned as O'Hara had hoped he would.

"Perhaps that is the kind of training they require. After all those country men are so unruly." General Cornwallis remarked, shifting through a stack of important looking papers on his desk. He seemed to barely be listening to his subordinate's concerns.

O'Hara frowned. "Indeed, however My Lord, surely you must find his methods unorthodox and cruel."

"I gave him no specific instructions or limitations in the way of training those men. He is allowed to do as he sees fit. However, his month is nearly over and if you are having such trouble in laying your doubts aside about his training methods perhaps it should be your men that put his to the test." Cornwallis suggested.

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but I do not understand," O'Hara blinked rapidly.

Cornwallis gave him a patient look. "We will test Tavington's militia as planned by having a mock battle. Pick twenty of your best men from you command to face Tavington's. Perhaps this test will prove that Colonel Tavington's training was necessary and effect."

O'Hara frowned. "I am not sure I agree with this plan, my Lord."

"It is only a test."

"My Lord, we do not have enough powder to waste on such a thing," O'Hara protested.

Cornwallis smiled. "Nonsense! We just had a shipment arrive yesterday and one on the way. It will do no harm using a little for such purposes."

"But, my Lord, really-!"

"Are you afraid of losing to a militia of ruffians?" Cornwallis smirked ever so slightly.

"Certainly not, my Lord!" O'Hara cried indignantly.

Cornwallis smiled. "Then you have nothing worry about."

O'Hara bowed smartly before stalking out of the room. This was not at all what he had in mind. Cornwallis was supposed to take his side and agree that Tavington was treating those men appallingly. Now he had somehow wound up having to fight Tavington's men instead. He did not like this idea at all. He just had the feeling that everything was going to go badly. However, he would be damned before losing to Tavington. He smirked to himself. Yes, he would teach those men the Colonel had trained what fighting against real soldiers was like. He hurried off in the direction of Tavington's camp to inform him of Cornwallis's orders.

P.A.T.R.O.I.T

Tavington looked up from the book he had been reading by the cooking fire to stare coldly at O'hara, who had just arrive in his camp. His militia men were arrayed about, sprawled on logs or in the dirt, waiting for the stew to be ready. O'Hara barely managed to hide his sneer of contempt at the motley little band.

"General O'Hara," Tavington greeted with a chilling smile, not bothering to stand up. He knew his lack of respect rankled the doll faced man. His men shifted uneasily about the fire, sensing trouble.

"Colonel Tavington," O'Hara answered in a clipped voice.

"To what do I owe the _pleasure_-," he spat the word out like it was poison, "-of your company?"

O'Hara raised his chin in a haughty manner. "I have come to inform you that the Lord General Cornwallis will be assessing how well you trained you men tomorrow."

"How so?" Tavington sat up straighter.

"In a mock battle...against my men." O'Hara did not bother to hide his smirk.

Tavington's eyebrows raised in surprise before a slow smile began to spread across his face. It was perhaps more frightening then the cold smiles that never reached his eyes. At least with those smiles one could tell the adder was about the strike. This smile was pure enjoyment–steel hidden behind silk–that made one think of how the devil must look while watching men burn in hell.

O'Hara cleared his voice anxiously. He did not like the look anymore than the men about the fire. "The mock battle will be held in the training field mid-morning. Your men will be facing thirty of my Regulars. I suggest you prepare your men for a quick defeat." he tried to sound arrogant and not in the least bit worried. He failed miserably.

"On the contrary, General O'Hara, we will prepare for a swift victory," Tavington's unnerving smile did not waver. His men sniggered softly. "Until tomorrow, General O'Hara."

O'Hara scowled. "Yes, until tomorrow." He turned and hurried away.

P.A.T.R.O.I.T

Tavington marched out onto the field with his men once more lined up in two rows behind him. Beside him, O'Hara strutted with twenty regulars all in perfectly clean, well tailored uniforms. The Colonel couldn't help but roll his eyes at O'Hara's need to show off his superiority complex. He could sense his men becoming somewhat nervous. O'Hara's men looked sharp and professional. They looked like the well trained, seasoned veterans that they were. Tavington knew though that those regulars had not been as severely trained in battle tactics as his men. They would be easy to defeat if he could just think of a way to stop their anxiety.

He glanced over at O'Hara and smiled slightly when an idea came to mind. "So, General O'Hara, did you dress your men up to look good for your swift defeat?" He could practically feel the regulars bristling. His own men managed to stifle their laughter to quiet snickers.

"At least my men have the decency to dress like proper soldiers," O'Hara sneered.

The two stopped halted in front of General Cornwallis and several other high ranking officers. They stepped forward to greet the officers formally before Cornwallis gave them the rules of the battle. Behind Tavington, the regulars sneered and glared at the militia men. He could hear their soft mutters of contempt. He knew his idea was working.

"They do not expect us to fight these ruffians, do they?" one of the regulars grumbled just loud enough for the militia men to hear.

Another snorted rudely. "Why should we? They are militia. It is insulting."

"Look at them. What a pathetic lot."

"We will have to put them in their place."

"Militia will never be as good as Regulars."

"Even with Tavington this fight will be a lark."

When Tavington rejoined his men he could practically feel them shaking with barely suppressed anger. Perfect. He marched them across the field to take up their positions. They stood less than thirty paces from the regulars.

"This will be a mock battle, men! No killing..." he paused for a moment to smile coldly. "That does not mean, however, that we can not rough them up a little bit. General Cornwallis set no rules against hand to hand combat."

He watched the slow, wolfish smiles spread across their faces with a smirk.

"These men are your enemies while this battle is on. No mercy! I do not think I need to point out just how those men feel about you. They seem to have done that themselves. Now form a line!"

They hustled to do as they were ordered.

"We will be using soft wood pellets. If you are 'shot' and you are hit in a place that would cripple or kill you In a normal battle then you must drop to the ground. You are not allowed to rise until this battle is over. No excuses or pardons! You will shoot twice then rush them. Load your guns and prepare yourselves!"

A moment later, Cornwallis gave the signal to begin. The first round of fire shattered the air. Only two fell on each side. Tavington's militia moved forward, reloaded quickly, then fired again. This time their aim was better. Two militia men dropped while five of the regulars did also. Tavington waited until O'Hara's men were beginning to reload their weapons. He gave a shout and his men rushed forward, slamming into the regulars head on. The regulars were to stunned by the move to retaliate. His men fought fiercely. To them it was not a 'mock' battle it was a chance to show the stuck up regulars that colonials could fight. More regulars 'fell' then militia men. O'Hara's men were no match against Tavington's in hand to hand combat. It was almost embarrassing to watch the regulars being beaten like little girls. In a matter of minutes it was all over. Not one regular was left standing while three quarters of the militia stood unscathed.

Cornwallis strode across the field coming to a halt in front of Colonel Tavington. "That was rather a barbaric move, Colonel Tavington, but effective. My compliments to you, Colonel Tavington. You have trained your men well. You are dismissed to take them back to camp then I would like to see you in my office."

"Yes, my Lord," Tavington bowed before turning back to his men.

O'Hara glowered. This was not at all like what he had planned. He had thought his idea was fail proof. Colonel Tavington training a small band of colonials. Tavington was sure to fall flat on its face. The Colonel hated the colonials. Somehow though the whole plan had turned itself around on him. Now the colonials had become one of the best trained fighting forces in their army. How had this happened? It wasn't meant to be this way at all!

He gritted his teeth as he glared at Tavington and his group of miscreants. The one time he finally thought he could get that bastard back for what he had done to him at the ball. He stopped just short of stomping his foot in rage. Perhaps being raised with so many sisters did have an adverse reaction. There were to many of their temper qualities he had picked up.

The brigadier general sighed heavily. What was he to do? How could he turn this situation around to his advantage? He stood still for a moment, then an evil smirk began to spread across his feminine features. He could take all the credit for it. After all it had been his idea from the beginning. It was he who had suggested the punishment. If Tavington did well then it was indeed he who should be given the praise.

"General O'Hara, come with me." Cornwallis commanded.

Feeling empowered, he turned and strode after the General without question. Let Tavington fantasize about all the praise he would receive. O'Hara would have it all snatched away from right under his nose. Oh, the plan was even better than the first one.

P.A.T.R.O.I.T

O'Hara waited patiently in Cornwallis's office for Colonel Tavington to arrive. He was eager to set his plans into action. He was only waiting for the General to give him just the right opening. It came much sooner than he expected.

"Colonel Tavington has done remarkably well." Cornwallis commented as he poured himself a glass of port then sat behind his desk.

O'Hara nodded. "Yes, his training methods were as effective as you suspected, my Lord. They learned rather well beneath Colonel Tavington's tutelage." He despised having to agree but it was all for the greater good.

"Colonel Tavington has born up to this challenge far better than I could have ever anticipated. It seems this punishment as honed his leadership qualities." Cornwallis remarked, sipping himself a glass of port.

"Indeed, it was fortunate that I suggested he be given the task."

Cornwallis nodded. "Yes, it was quite a brilliant bit of genius on your part. How did you ever think that he could do such a task?"

"It just seemed his forte, my Lord. I thought perhaps his ambitious behavior needed to be directed to more constructive activities then raids."

"He has much to thank you for then, General O'Hara."

O'hara adopted a humble expression. "No, that is not at all necessary. I was only hoping to help all parties in concern. There is no need for such things."

"Come, General O'Hara, you must receive some praise for your part in all of this. I am sure Colonel Tavington would agree." Cornwallis said.

"I am certain he would, my Lord," O'hara replied with a gracious smile before turning to hide his smug expression by looking out the window. Victory was only a few moments away. His revenge would be swift and brutal. He would show Tavington that he was not the only one who could attain the perfect revenge in a cruel manner.

Tavington strode proudly into Cornwallis's office and sketched a bow before clasping his hands behind his back. He had been waiting for this moment for a month. Finally, he would hear some praise for his efforts. He would receive long over-due credit. He could practically hear it already.

"You have done an admirable job, Colonel Tavington, in preparing these men for combat. I am suitably impressed." General Cornwallis smiled.

Tavington seemed to swell with pride.

"I suppose you have proven to myself and General O'Hara that the militia as well as yourself are worthy of respect and a fair measure of praise." Cornwallis glanced over at O'Hara, who hastened to agree.

"Indeed, my Lord," O'Hara smiled through tight lips.

Tavington somehow managed to hold back his smirk.

"Very well done, Colonel Tavington. Your men will be transferred to your command. Your punishment is finished. I will be giving you a new assignment tomorrow."

The Colonel allowed himself a brief smile.

"General O'Hara, I am sure as a word or two for you as well," Cornwallis prompted his second in command.

"Yes, well, my compliments you, Colonel Tavington. You trained your men very well," O'Hara said through gritted teeth. He looked like he wanted to swallow his own tongue.

"Thank you, General O'Hara," Tavington smiled another one of those devilish smiles. Just to hear the pompous little ninny forced to give him praise was worth the entire month he had lost when he could have been doing much more important actives. It was perhaps an even sweeter victory then the one he had at the ball.

"I think it is General O'Hara to whom you should give a good deal of thanks to, Colonel Tavington. He was the one who recommended that you be the best choice to train the colonials. He had a much more faith in your abilities then I did at the time." General Cornwallis remarked from behind his desk.

Tavington's eye twitched. Surely, Cornwallis was not proposing that he do such a thing. O'Hara had suggested him for this task as a way to get back at him. Why should he thank him for that? The only reason he had worked so hard to train those men was to make that little prick feel like an ass. There was no way he was going to turn around and–

"Surely, Colonel Tavington, you can think up a proper way to show O'Hara your appreciation. His gesture helped to raise your esteem in my eyes once more," Cornwallis remarked casually.

O'Hara was smirking much to smugly. Tavington's eyes widened in horror. It all suddenly made sense. The bastard! He had gotten to Cornwallis first. O'Hara had somehow influenced the General in seeing how it had been he who had directed it all from the beginning. All of his hopes of praise and further advancement seemed to be implode. He wanted to kill something. Badly.

"Yes, my Lord, I am certain I can," he said through gritted teeth.

"You are dismissed, Colonel Tavington. You have the rest of the day to yourself," Cornwallis gestured toward the door.

Tavington bowed stiffly before stalking out of the room. He had the urge to slam the door and stomp down the hall like a little child. He barely restrained himself from doing it. How the hell had it all gone wrong? Everything had been perfect! The praise, the compliments, finally getting some respect only to have it all turn away from him and onto O'Hara! How? The sneaky little son of a bitch! He would pay for this. Oh yes! He would certainly find a way to give O'Hara his 'thanks.' Perhaps a few rounds of ale at the pub would help give him ideas. He smiled tightly, heading off to find Bordon and drag him along once more.

P.A.T.R.I.O.T.

Be a responsible reader and review!

I promise to have the next chapter out much quicker. I've even started writing it already! So stick around! Until then!


	8. Drunken Thanks

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything of or pertaining to The Patriot. If I did I'd have entirely to much fun dressing O'Hara up in drag and Tavington would be mine to do with as I please.

**A/N**: I'm back! This story is going a lot longer than I ever thought it would. It looks like I'll still have enough material for several more chapters as well. So stick around for them. Also I am aware there were quite a few typos last time. I'm sorry about that. I was just trying to slam the chapter out as fast possible. Same with this one. So please forgive me for them. I know they are there. I intend to fix them eventually. On that note I have just gotten enlisted in the Air Force Reserves. I leave for basic training in Sept. (I'm Security Forces. A freaking cop baby!) So while I am gone at that obviously this story will be on hiatus. But it would be an awesome going away gift if I could get a hundred reviews for this story before I leave. So c'mon guys! Help me out here! Anyways, with out further ado. More Harassing O'Hara!

**Chapter Eight**

"Well, here we sit again, Bordon. All I want is to get good and sloshed, hopefully find a whore or two to for some pleasurable company while trying very hard not to think about a certain little weasel faced conniving son of a bitch."

"Perhaps, sir, that is not a very good idea." Bordon suggested.

"It sounds like a perfectly good idea to me."

"If I may ask, sir, why is it you are in such a poor mood? Your punishment is finally over. You are once more in the General's good graces and from what I heard was given a fair bit of praise for your efforts. Did O'Hara do something again?" Bordon inquired delicately.

"Is it not always O'Hara, Bordon? The little prick stole my moment of triumphant! Somehow that pansy wormed his way through to Cornwallis once more so that it is I who now has to give O'Hara thanks for coming up with such a lovely punishment. The whole situation reeks worse than my father did after a night of drinking and sleeping in his own piss!" He banged his fist loudly on the table top, making several nearby men jump.

"That is rather unfair." Bordon agreed quietly. He did not dare say so to loudly for fear of another superior officer hearing.

Tavington glanced over at his friend before shaking his head. "Quite," he answered dryly.

"Did you have any ideas in mind for how to 'repay' O'Hara?" Bordon asked cautiously.

"No. I would rather show my appreciation by shooting him and dumping him in a river." Tavington smiled tightly.

Bordon frowned. "I do not think that would go over well with General Cornwallis."

"You think so, Bordon?" Tavington gave the captain a dirty look. He was beginning to wonder if the man had a sense of humor or maybe he was drunk enough at the moment that he was missing it.

"Well, if you would like my advice, Colonel-." Bordon started to say.

Tavington interrupted. "It seems I will get it whether I want it or not."

"–I would say do something as simple as possible." Bordon finished.

"Fine advise, but that gave me no ideas," the Colonel said sarcastically.

Bordon rolled his eyes. "I have heard, sir, that General O'Hara enjoys strong liquor. Perhaps a bottle of port may do the trick."

"Trying to find a bottle of that or anything else will cost quite a bit," Tavington muttered.

"It was merely a suggestion, sir."

Tavington sighed. "It was a good suggestion, Bordon."

Bordon smiled slightly. "Thank you, sir."

Tavington waved the bartender over. "Do you know anywhere around here that might sell a decent bottle of port?"

"Y-yes, sir, I have few bottles of port I would be willing to sell," the man nervously replied. Tavington had been to his pub several times. He knew the Colonel's reputation and most of the recent bar fights had _all_ been caused by Tavington as well. He was not overly anxious to be near the Colonel.

"Name your price," Tavington demanded.

Bordon smiled reassuringly at the man. The man stammered out the first price that came to mind. It was obviously far to cheap for a fine bottle of port, but that did not bother Tavington in the least. Sometimes it did pay off to be known as the 'Butcher.' He felt no need to bargain further for the bottle. He quickly paid for it, and waited impatiently for the man to bring it. He would rather get the whole humiliating thing over with as soon as possible. The man rushed back to the table with the bottle then disappeared behind the bar.

"Come, Bordon. Let us get this done with," he sighed, standing up.

"Yes, sir." Bordon followed him dutifully. It was perhaps the first time in a long while that he had not left the bar in a wreck from the Colonel's actions. He was a little amazed. He glanced back for a moment to make sure the bar really was intact. Perhaps it had been a dream?

Tavington glanced back. "Quit dawdling, Bordon."

"Yes, sir!" Bordon answered, snapping back around.

Tavington stalked all the way back to his horse and somehow managed to make it look like his horse was stalking back to the fort. Or perhaps that to was Bordon's imagination. In any case, they arrived back at the fort rather quickly. Tavington dismounted before throwing the reins up to his subordinate. He climbed the stairs to the headquarters all the while grumbling about O'Hara having a proper room when he should be out camping with his men like the rest of the officers. No, that was not good enough for poor little O'Hara. God forbid his back become bruised from sleeping on a cot. He marched stiff legged all the way to the brigadier general's room then knocked (well pounded rather) on the door.

"Enter," O'Hara called in that stuffy voice of his that grated so at Tavington's nerves.

The Colonel swung the door open, and with out a greeting walked over to where O'Hara sat at his writing desk. Tavington slammed the bottle of port down on the table in front of O'Hara. "A token of my appreciation, General O'Hara. Perhaps it will help dull the sting of your break up with Miss Winston." He smirked at the outraged expression on the little weasel's face before turning and walking out before the general had recovered enough to say anything. That one comment was worth having to spend the money on the port. That expression was ten times worth having to give the port to O'Hara instead of drinking it himself.

He returned his own tent where he promptly dug out a bottle of ale he had kept hidden under his cot then went to find a free female camp follower to keep himself busy the rest of the night.

**P.A.T.R.I.O.T.**

Oh God, he felt like hell. He knew he must look like hell to but that fact really didn't upset him as much as the roiling in his stomach. Why in the world had he gotten drunk last night? Oh yes, celebration for that perfect look of hatred and indignation he caused to appear on O'Hara's face. That was almost worth the hang over. He sat up slowly, but the movement alone was enough to make him revisit everything he had swallowed in the last twenty four hours. God, life was a bitch. Could he never catch a break? Just once. Was that to much to ask for? Wait a minute, why the hell was he asking God anyway. The oh Great Spirit had not answered a prayer of his since...never.

"I am being punished for living," he grumbled, lifting his eyes heavenward. "What the hell did I ever do to You?"

"I hope you are not referring to me, sir," Bordon's voice made him jump then cringe as his stomach flipped over.

"I would thank you to please be quiet and not startle me, Bordon! I feel like shit that has been trampled on the high way more than a dozen times," Tavington growled.

Bordon did not seem perturbed by his threatening tone. "Forgive me, sir."

"Just shut up, dammit!"

"Perhaps you do not want the bread and coffee I brought–."

Tavington reached up and snatched it away from his subordinate before the man could finish his sentence. Bordon wisely kept silent this time although Tavington did not miss the amused look in the man's eyes.

"Sir, the young lady you had with you last night asked me to deliver a message," Bordon spoke up quietly.

Tavington paused in the act of draining his coffee cup. Young lady? It took him a moment to remember he had brought a camp whore back to his tent last night then proceeded to have a very good time. He smiled slightly. "Yes?"

"She said, sir, that she enjoyed your company very much–," Bordon told him.

Tavington smirked. "I am sure she did."

"–And that should you ever require her services again she would be more than willing to accommodate you," his subordinate finished.

"I will certainly have to remember that." Tavington's smile was enough to make Bordon shiver slightly. Tavington went back to his breakfast.

"Sir, General Cornwallis–," Bordon began only to be rudely interrupted once more.

Tavington snarled, around a mouthful of bread. "What's the damned man want now?"

"Sir, you should watch what you say," Bordon warned then had the compulsion to hide behind something when Tavington shot him the trade mark 'Butcher' look. He cleared his throat and continued with what he had started to say. "General Cornwallis heard rumor of the Ghost's militia in a nearby town and requested we go to scout it out."

"I swear he must know when I am horribly hung over," Tavington grumbled softly.

Bordon blinked. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Nothing. Never mind. I'll be ready to leave in a half hour. Have the horses saddled." he stood up very slowly before reaching for his clothes.

"Yes, sir." Bordon turned and strode out the tent.

Tavington sighed heavily. He had a very bad feeling about the day. Or maybe that was his stomach just protesting having to move...

**P.A.T.R.I.O.T.**

_Dammit! Dammit! Damn Cornwallis to hell! Sending me out on another mad goose hunt because of a rumor! He did it on purpose! He knew I was hung over! I just know he knew, _Tavington fumed silently to himself.

He was still feeling sick. The swaying of his horse, Audrey, was not helping his stomach feel any better. He just wanted to go back to his tent at the fort and curl up on his cot then never move again...if that could be managed. But no, Cornwallis had to send him off again to chase the Ghost's militia. The whole thing stank suspiciously of a trap or someone trying to get the better of him. Not so much as a word about the militia for days and now he was out hunting them once more. It just had to be O'Hara's doing.

Oh well, whatever the punishment, his own moment of revenge had been well worth while. It did not quite make up for what O'Hara had done to him. However, that could be corrected all in good time. An evil smirk began to spread across his face. Besides him, Bordon began to studiously watch the opposite of the road as he tryed to ignore that look (not that Tavington noticed).

As he suspected, when they arrived at the god forsaken little town, there was no sign of the rebels. His irritation increased ten fold. Another pointless trek through the wilds of South Carolina only to learn that there was no substance to the rumor at all. Now, he was not only tired and hung over, he was angry. He was about to turn around and ride right back to the fort–maybe burn a house or two just for the hell of it along the way–when he felt someone touch his boot.

He glanced down to see a beggar standing by his horse staring up at him with red rimmed eyes. He leaned down to shove the man away when he caught a good look at the beggar's face. It was all he could do not to smile viciously. It was one of his spies. He had planted several of them through out the nearby towns in hopes he might gain a clue or two as to where the rebels might be hiding. It seemed his efforts were about to pay off.

"What do you want?" he growled, maintaining the outward appearance of contempt for a poverty stricken man.

"Please, sir, only a sympathetic ear," his agent sniveled.

Tavington curled his lip. "Then be quick about it."

The 'beggar' lowered his voice. "Sir, I have word of were the rebels plan to strike the supply lines next."

"Go on." Tavington pressed softly.

"The King's Highway," the 'beggar' glanced around nervously. "In three days."

Tavington straightened in his saddle. "I am in a rather generous mood today. Take this and get out of my sight." Tavington threw a handful of coins at the man before wheeling his horse around and galloping out of the town with Bordon at his heels. He glanced over at his subordinate when they were a safe distant from the town. "It seems that O'Hara is doing me more favors than punishments lately. I will certainly have to thank him," Tavington sneered delightedly.

This time all the praise would be Tavington's. This time he would have the rebels in his grip and Cornwallis would be forced to acknowledge him properly. Everything was falling smoothly into place.

**P.A.T.R.I.O.T.**

Tavington stood in Cornwallis' office, impatiently with his hands clasped behind his back. He was ready to set his own plans into motion for the capture of the militia men, but once again Cornwallis was having his doubts.

"You are sure that is what your spy told you, Colonel Tavington?" General Cornwallis asked for what must have been the tenth time.

Tavington suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, my Lord. He made it quite clear."

"How can you be certain this spy's sources are valid," General O'Hara put in.

"I installed the man there myself, General O'Hara. He is reliable," Tavington practically snapped out.

General Cornwallis waved his hand for them to desist their arguing before it escalated. It was no surprise he always left the room with a pounding headache after speaking with them. "I will accept your source of information, Colonel Tavington. Now what should we do about this?"

Tavington was a little surprised to be asked his opinion. It took him a moment to regain his composure. "My Lord, I would like permission to take charge of this operation–."

"I will decide that as soon as I know what operation you intend." General Cornwallis glared at him.

"A trap, my Lord. One which they will not suspect in even the slightest," the Dragoon's commander answered.

Cornwallis nodded, sitting down in the chair behind his desk. "What kind of trap?"

Tavington had hoped to have permission to lead it before divulging his scheme, but there was no avoiding it now. He carefully began to lay out his designs of the trap that would be laid. It was clever, shrewd, and in a manner rather ironic. He knew without a doubt that it would work if only Cornwallis allowed him to be in charge of it. He did not trust anyone else not to bungle the whole thing.

"It was a very well thought out plan, Colonel Tavington. I commend you for that," Cornwallis commented when he was finished.

Tavington nodded respectfully. "Thank you, my Lord."

"However, I wonder if you are quite up to executing it," Cornwallis frowned.

"I had hoped, my Lord, that with the success of my last assignment you might think otherwise," Tavington remarked casually.

Cornwallis smiled slightly. "And so I have. I will give you the assignment, Colonel Tavington. You may use your dragoons and the militia you trained, but I can spare no more men for this. Our forces are stretched rather thin as it is."

"I am very grateful, my Lord. I will do my best," Tavington replied eagerly.

"See that you do, Colonel Tavington. You are dismissed," Cornwallis gestured towards the door.

Tavington bowed before heading towards the door. He glanced sideways at O'Hara and sneered at the pale general. O'Hara drew himself up to his full height with a haughty sniff. Anger, hatred, and contempt shone clearly in the brigadier general's eyes. Tavington left without another backward glance, leaving a seething O'Hara behind.

P.A.T.R.I.O.T.

Alright, that's it for now. Be a responsible reader and review! C'mon y'all help me hit that 100:D Thanks for all the awesome reviews so far! You have no idea how much those make my day! Until the next chapter!

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	9. Strike and Counter Strike

Disclaimer: If I didn't own it when I started, I certainly don't own it now. Much to my ever growing dismay.

A/N: I am so sorry it has been so long since I updated. I lost my inspiration for this story and could not seem to find it. However, thanks to the urging of a long time fellow author and friend I was able to get it back. Plus, I need to stretch out my sadistic, dark humorous side yet again. Still I should give you a little bit of a warning. This story is going to begin to get serious. It's kinda to be expected given the nature of the film. The chapters after this one will be much heavier into the actual motions of the movie. It's inevitable but there you have it. That does not mean that the humor will stop. Tavington is quite amusing in my mind simply by his thought processes. Never fear on that. I will not promise a happy ending because there isn't one. I stick ti canon. It hurts me to do otherwise. So please hang in there til the end and I will do my best to as well. Thank you for continuing to read.

This chapter is dedicated to ArtyFowl who urged me to continue. Thanks so much for the inspiration. :D

**P.A.T.R..I.O.T.**

Tavington drummed his fingers impatiently on the pummel of his saddle as he waited for the moment when the trap would be put into motion. Beneath him Audrey, his horse, shifted her weight anxiously for the thousandth time. Her owner's impatience had long ago made the poor horse antsy. The Colonel was just not overly skilled at waiting. It seemed to him that he had waited long enough for a chance like this. A chance to prove himself. He would finally captured his nemesis–the Ghost. Whether the rebel militia leader knew it or not, he was the current bane of Tavington's military career. Everything rode on Tavington capturing the Ghost. He had failed enough times already. Another failure, he was sure, would not go over well with General Cornwallis.

This time though he would have the Ghost. It was just the agonizingly slow minutes passing by in wait for this one critical moment that was wearing at his already stretched thin nerves. He pulled out his spyglass once more and raised it up so he could scan the tree lined road for any sign of the rebels. Surely they would be moving into their positions soon. The supply wagon would be within sight any moment. He went very still as he saw dark shapes moving stealthily along the road side. The Ghost and his militia had arrived.

"Good," he whispered, his lips curling up into a faint smile.

It was beginning.

The rebels were taking up their positions as he swung his spyglass towards the opposite end of the road. He could now see the slow moving decoy supply wagon making its way steadily along ever closer to the hidden rebels.

"Perfect."

Everything was proceeding accordingly. Only a few more minutes. He felt a school boy sense of excitement creep over him as he watched the events unfolding below. He sat forward in his saddle slightly as the wagon was finally engaged by the Ghost. There he was–the Ghost–the man Tavington had been searching for only several hundred yards away. His expression turned steely as he watched the exchange closely below between the Ghost and the soldier had placed in charge of the supply wagon. He had to gauge just the right moment to signal his Dragoons forward.

There.

His militia men jumped from the wagon and spread out across the road to face off against the rebels. One moment longer...

"Charge!" he bellowed as he slammed his heels into Audrey's sides. The chestnut mare sprang forward at a gallop as though shot from a cannon. Behind him, the Dragoons came thundering close on his horse's heels. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as the rebels looked up to see their impending doom barreling down at them in a tidal wave of red coats and galloping horses surging down the hill. He could almost taste their panicked fear as they broke, scattering in every direction.

_Cowards,_ he thought with a fierce smile. They could run as fast they could but they would not escape him. There was no where to run. He had seen to that. He raised his gun, dug his heels into Audrey's sides again to urge her on faster. This was what he lived for. He had waited long enough for this.

It was over much faster than he had anticipated much to his disappointment. The rebels had reacted much quicker than he had expected. He had to admit that impressed him quite a bit. Even so he had been prepared for their attempts to escape but apparently not prepared enough. He had not expected a dozen or more of them to go down the bank of the stream and escape through the water. It had been a rather foolhardy thing to do since it was hard to see the depth of the water. For all the men knew their horses could have slipped and broken legs then they would have been stranded and at the mercy of the Dragoons. Desperation drove men to do reckless things. It had certainly been a bold move, however, frustrating it had been to him.

Tavington rode at the head of the column leading the Ghost's captured men back to Fort Caroline. The sun was beginning to set as they rode in silence with only the creaking of saddles and a few whispers to break the quiet. He should have been feeling satisfied, instead he was choking on bitter frustration. He and his men had captured almost 20 men as well as killing around the same number. That was easily more than half of the Ghost's militia. Yet, he felt cheated. They had not completely destroyed the rebel band. A few had escaped. Most importantly, the Ghost had escaped.

He knew it without having to ask the men he had captured. The answer was there in the defeated slump of their shoulders, the fear in their eyes, and the lack of leadership amongst them. Screaming it aloud would not have made it more obvious that the man they followed was not in their midst.

He growled in agitation. He had failed–again. It made his insides burn with rage. Cornwallis would not be pleased. If the Ghost was still at large then the rebel militia could be rebuilt. Tavington was not about to give up though. The Ghost and his men were still safely hidden for now, but he _would_ find them. He would not be satisfied until he killed them all.

**P.A.T.R.I.O.T**

Very early the next morning, Tavington found himself standing before General Cornwallis once more. He was not looking forward to telling the General that he had failed to capture the Ghost. He had only given the General a very brief report the night before when they had finally brought the rebels in to the fort. By the time, the rebels had all been sorted and herded into their respective holding cages it was late into the evening. The General had been only happy to hear that a large number of the militia ban that had been antagonizing his army had been mostly destroyed. He had asked for the more detailed report in the morning. Which was why Tavington had detained that particular little fact until now.

"You have done very well, Colonel Tavington." Cornwallis praised him with a smile. More than a dozen militia rebels in his prison ready for hanging. It made him happier than he had been in sometime. "Do you believe you have caught the leader, Colonel Tavington?"

Tavington shifted in irritation. "No, my Lord. I am certain he is one of those who managed to escape."

"No matter. We will have him eventually. His men will be hanged, reducing his following. Perhaps he will come out in the open if we anger him enough. He would be a fool to come here to try and rescue his men. We will see him in open combat soon." Cornwallis smirked. His own troops would destroy what was left of the militia if this 'Ghost' did confront him in such a way. Soon all the annoying obstacles keeping him out of North Carlina would be out of his way. He would be able to move north and crush Washington's forces. He would be known in history as the General who won the war over those pathetic continentals.

"I do not think it so simple–," Tavington tried to put in, more than a little shocked that he was not being shouted at for his incompetence.

Cornwallis waved his words away. "It is of no matter. The rebels are to be hanged tomorrow afternoon. In the mean time, I would like for you to go search for those who escaped. I am sure they could not have gone far. Take your Dragoons with you."

"Yes, my Lord," Tavington bowed.

He forced himself not to storm out of there. Once again, after everything he had accomplished, he was reduced to a scout. His hopes of finally gaining notice had once more been trod under the boot of General Cornwallis. Yes, he had been praised–although that to was unsatisfying for it felt like he was being praised for failing– then brushed aside. Cornwallis was a fool. Tavington was truly, deeply beginning to hate that man. What else must he do before Cornwallis acknowledged that he was a capable leader and give him his due respect by listening to what he had to say? Not brushing him aside and sending him out on useless errands such as trying to find a few sly rebels that were probably well hidden by now.

He stomped down the steps of the headquarters in a terrible temper. The few soldiers he stormed past jumped out of his way quickly. He stomped past the holding cages where the rebels were being held, hand clenched on his saber hilt. He glanced over with a menacing snarl at the ragged men who sat huddled behind the wooden bars. He felt a sense of twisted satisfaction when they cowered back at his death glare. The brief flicker of humor immediately disappeared as he yelled for a stable hand to bring his horse to him.

"Bordon!" he called out furiously.

The Dragoon's Captain appeared by his side so fast he had to control himself from leaping away in surprise. How Bordon managed to do that so often he would never know. He shook off that mild irritation, keeping his temper focused on what was annoying him the most.

"We, as well as the rest of my cavalry, have been reduced to scouts yet again," Tavington informed his Captain, who looked just a touch disappointed but did not argue. "Apparently the General believes it is also our job to round up any rebels that have escaped. Go inform the others to mount up and be waiting to leave when I arrive."

Bordon nodded his head and spun away to carry out those orders immediately. Tavington strode back towards the holding cages, smirking as the rebels pressed back even further away from him like they could push their way out of the cages if they tried hard enough. His hand remained on the hilt of his sword as he surveyed them with obvious disgust.

"If any of you feels like telling me where your leader is hiding I will insure that you do not hang tomorrow," he informed them, hoping none of them was smart enough to notice he had not offered clemence.

"We'd never betray him to you, Butcher." one long haired scruffy fellow barked smugly.

Tavington's ice blue eyes narrowed threateningly. Few had dared call him that to his face. "He'll be caught and killed the same as you. There is no point in protecting him. If you have not noticed he ran while you were all being captured. Obviously your loyalty in him is misplaced," the Colonel remarked coldly.

"He did what he had to out of necessity," another man spoke up, sounding much more well educated then the previous man. Tavington frowned as the man continued. "You did not tell us we would be set free or pardoned from our charges if we do betray him. You would probably only kill us on another day despite aiding you. Go look for him yourself, but you will never find him."

The other men nodded and agreed boldly. Tavington snorted rudely. "Your faith in the man is pitiful. I will find him. I will kill him and the rest of your pathetic band. The rest of you will hang tomorrow. I will watch with pleasure." Tavington spun around and marched away stiffly. He snatched Audrey's reins away from the waiting stable boy. He had not expected the rebels to give up their leader's whereabouts, but it would have made matters so much easier. So much for that slim hope. With a sigh, he swung up into Audrey's saddle before heeling her in the sides which sent her bolting out the gates of the fort.

**P.A.T.R.I.O.T.**

"What a useless waste of time that had been," Tavington grumbled to Bordon as they rode at the head of the Dragoons back towards the Fort. "Did we even learn anything of worth?"

Bordon looked thoughtful. "We found their tracks leading into the swamps. We have a general direction in which they were headed."

"Which is about as useful as knowing which side of a hill a deer shit on when you're trying to track it a day later," Tavington snapped at his subordinate. Bordon did not look a bit fazed by his display of temper. That probably irritated him even more. "All we did was tire out our horses, waste time, and become frustrated."

"On a good side, it kept us away from the Fort and General Cornwallis," Wilkins spoke up behind him.

Bordon had the urge to sigh in resignation as Tavington twisted around in the saddle to tell the Captain just where he could shove his opinions as well as his optimism. The Colonel really did act like a child when things did not go his way. He had no intention of trying to see the good side of anything if he was in this kind of temper.

Tavington twisted back around and continued to grumble to himself. He still could not believe that he had been sent out yet again on something as useless as this. He was fit to kill something. He would never find this Ghost this way. It had not worked before, why the bloody hell should it work now. The Ghost's ability to hide so well was the reason he had concocted that plan to flush the rebel leader and his men out of their lair in the first place. The fact that the man had eluded his him despite the brilliant scheme irked him beyond words.

Still he was not fool or rash enough go charging into unknown swamp lands where he could easily be ambushed. Cornwallis was truly an idiot if he believed that Tavington would do something like that. The Colonel was seriously beginning to believe that this was the General's way of hoping to get rid of him. Why else would he keep sending him out on these useless excursions that only put him in dangerous territory with no chance of success at finding what he had been ordered to look for. Well, he was no fool as to get himself killed so easily. He made sure to keep himself and his men only within the confines of the land he knew well and only on the borders of the swamp land. Besides he knew that the Ghost would probably come out on his own. He would want to free his men. His noble intentions would gnaw at him like a dog with an itch until he could not stand it. It was only a matter of waiting.

Needless to say he was beyond infuriated when he rode up the hill to the fort later that afternoon with Bordon to find in his absence that the Ghost had indeed made his move. Fury surged through him at the sight of a handful of the Ghost's militia men sitting on horseback outside the gates of the Fort with several more horses in tow behind them. With a great effort he forced himself to ride past them, watching them shift uneasily as he did. If they could not feel the hostility he felt towards them they were fools. He rode through the gates and drew Audrey to a halt non to kindly.

His eyes were already riveted on a the familiar face of a man that was striding across the Fort yard with O'Hara behind him. That man- he knew that man beyond any doubt. The man's name and where he knew him from hovered just out of reach in the most annoying manner. Their eyes met across the distance between them and it all came back in an instant. Those brilliant blue eyes staring up at him in a pleading manner, the spy they were going to hang, the boy he shot, and the lock in that man's eyes when he'd rode away. He felt like ice had been dumped over his head.

"Release the prisoners!" O'Hara's voice cut through the shock that frozen him.

He glanced quickly over at the holding cages as the lock was opened and the door swung wide to allow the men he had captured to walk free. He leapt off his horse and stormed across the yard, knocking a soldier out of his way as he went. Cold fury was surging through his veins as the rebels began to file out of the holding cages. He had not worked that hard to capture those men only to have them released for some unknown reason.

He stopped beside O'Hara who pretended to look unfazed at being so closed to him when he was inches from losing his temper. "General, what is this?" he snapped, barely hanging onto the shred of respect he was expected show.

"Prisoner exchange. He has eighteen of our officers," O'Hara explained shortly.

"Who is he? I recognize him," Tavington growled quietly, glaring after the man with the bright blue eyes.

O'Hara's lipped turned up into a tiny smug smile. "He's the commander of the militia. Your Ghost." Tavington's head whipped around just in time to see the delight in O'Hara's eyes at having all of his schemes and hard working falling to pieces right in front on him.

In raged at this sudden knowledge, he spun around and yanked his saber from it's sheath, he strode after the Ghost with murderous intent.

"Stay that sword, Colonel!" O'Hara's voice lashed out, checking Tavington's stepped. The rank the man suddenly held over the Colonel grated so badly it felt like an open infected wound. "He rode in under a white flag for formal parley."

"This is madness," he muttered under his breath in disbelief that all this was being allowed to happen.

"If you harm him, you condemn our officers," O'Hara informed him, trying to through in all the weight of his authority behind those words.

Tavington grit his teeth, spinning around to stride back towards the general. He stopped a few feet away, hesitating for only a brief second before forcing the next few words past his lips. It was like drinking scalding water. "With respect, sir-," he felt bile in the back of his throat, "he's killed more officers in the last two months." He said it as calmly as he could manage as he locked his seething gaze onto O'Hara's.

O'Hara drew up just a tad taller as Tavington had just insulted him personally by questioning his authority. It had been subtle and maybe few would have suspected that was what had behind those words but the look in Tavington's eyes was clear enough. "He has shown no aggression here. Hence he cannot be touched," O'Hara replied firmly, holding Tavington's gaze despite the uneasy he felt in the pit of his stomach. The Colonel's temper was closing to breaking and he had no desire to be in the line of fire when it did. The man was irrational. O'Hara watched as a delighted light just appeared in Tavington's eyes as those words left his lips.

"Has he not?" Tavington murmured and tiny smile appeared on his lips before he whirled around and strode fiercely across the yard. It was all horse shit! That man was the Ghost and they were going to let him ride away with those men in tow. The whole point of everything he had done would be lost. Damn them and their honorable following of the rules of war. War had no rules! It was no civilized. It was killed or be killed. And he was going to kill that man. To hell with the officers in the rebels possession. If they were stupid enough to be captured then they had earned their death.

"You!" he yelled, not bothered as the man continued to walk away from him. "So you're the Ghost are you? I remember you! On that farm with that stupid little boy!" He smiled fiercely just a little as the man jerked to a halt and the young man he recognized as the Ghost's other son and spy swallowed hard in anger. The man turned around to face him a pained yet angry look in his bright eyes. It was almost unbelievable to think that man was Ghost. He remembered the devastated look on his face when his son had died in his arms. He had not had the look of a warrior then. He had only been the horrified father to a dumb dead child who had been to rash to hold his tongue. "Did he die, hm?" he asked with relish. He would not let this man walk free. He felt supreme satisfaction wash over him as the man walked purposely towards him hate and anger so apparent in his eyes that Tavington could almost feel it. He felt delight at knowing he had angered the man so easily. A little more and the man would snap, then he would have the opening he'd need. "You know it's an ugly business doing one's duty, but just occasionally...," he paused half a second as the small smile he was trying to hold back appeared for brief second. He knew this would be the finally stroke and he was ready. "It's a real pleasure," he ended with relish.

There was silence between them as he waited for the man to break. The moment of stillness continued and yet nothing happened. He felt anger rising again as the man simply stood there, staring at him in calm determination. _Do something dammit!_ He wanted to yell at the man.

"Before this war is over I'm going to kill you," the Ghost spoke in quiet tones with a firmness that startled Tavington. Few had stood before him so calmly and spoken to him so boldly when they had witnessed first hand the kind of cruelty he could inflict.

He leaned forward just a touch, anger shining in his eyes. "Why wait?" he pressed, hoping the man would take up the invitation as his hand clenched around his saber. He could kill him right there. He could do it so easily. He barely managed to rein his control as the man looked at him considering his words. Surely, the Ghost would not back away from such a clear challenge.

"Soon," the man spoke resolutely, lingering only another moment before spinning away and mounting up on his horse.

He wanted to hurt something as the Ghost and his men wheeled their horses around and rode off. He did not even blink when the Ghost whistled and a moment later the General's huge great Danes went sprinting past his leg. He was to stunned and enraged by everything that had just happened that he could not seem to move. He watched in disbelief as the gates of the Fort swung shut in his face, blocking out the view of the retreating rebels backs.

He had been so close. The Ghost had been in his reach only to slip away because of the confounded rules of war! Damn Cornwallis! Damn O'Hara! And most of all damn the Ghost! How could the General have let this happen? Was it not Cornwallis who had wanted his head so badly to begin with? Was it not for that one man that the General had made his life a living hell just to capture and stop that militia? So what the bloody hell had possessed the General to allow the Ghost to walk into the Fort, make demands, and walk away a free man along with all his men? It was insanity. It was more than maddening. Damn Cornwallis pride and honor! Honor did not win wars!

He felt like a fool for not realizing that man had been the Ghost. He should have known! The beginning of the Ghost had started the day that man's son had been taken prisoner. It had been the men he had assigned to guard that prisoner who had been murdered. The prisoner had escaped with only one British soldier's mad rambling to divulge what had happened that day. He had dismissed the account of the soldier that it was only one man. It had not seemed possible but the proof had just walked out that gate. How could he have been so blind? Simply because the man wept and pleaded in his presence Tavington had dismissed him from his mind as no threat at all. What foolish mistake to have made. In his mind he had always believed it had been the militia before it had been well known that they had been mustered by the Carolinas. The Ghost nickname for the leader had stuck because of Cornwallis's insistence of it, not him.

The answer to the riddle had been right there under his nose all those months he had been out there chasing shadows. Ragged throbbed through him and heated his blood to what felt like boiling level. He had been run like a dog in circles after its own tail by that man like a fool. He wanted to wring that man's neck then shoot him and watch all the blood drain from his body then shoot him again for the hell of it.

For months he had eluded Tavington, making him look incompetent in his ability to perform his duties and now he was destroying the one victory he had to use as leverage with Cornwallis. Everything he had worked for had been shot to hell in a matter of minutes

"Colonel Tavington!" O'Hara's voice felt like a knife through his shoulder blades.

He turned to face the little priss with a quiet growl. He tensed his shoulders at the smug expression on O'Hara's face. O'Hara was clearly enjoying yet another one of what he knew would be claimed as Tavington's failure. He wanted to pummel the man until his porcelain face looked like nothing more than raw meat. "Yes?" he bit out.

"General Cornwallis has ordered that you and your Captain retrieve our officers that the Ghost was holding hostage," O'Hara said with a tiny smile gracing his pink lips.

Tavington had forcefully bite his cheek to keep from unleashing the force of his temper completely. Of course, Cornwallis would ask him to that task. He would want to rub in the fact that this was going to be somehow blamed on Tavington despite all he done. "As the General commands," Tavington said as politely and calmly as he could manage.

O'Hara actually smiled fully; an amusing decrepitating smile that made Tavington long to run the little bastard through with his saber. He spun his heel, stalking away towards Bordon to collect Audrey and go do as the General had ordered. He might just stab one of those officers just to relieve some stress and blame it on the rebels. The thought brought a flicker of devilish anticipation fleeting across his face before he urged Audrey through the gates of the Fort.

**P.A.T.R.I.O.T.**

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